On Mother's Day

As I was thinking about the act of mothering today, I was remembering how  young my own mother was when she died.  She still had 4 children in their teens, and one of them had only turned 12 a few days before her death.  He was the one who had attached the string of his kite to some object in the backyard and she got to watch it fly long after he had come inside the house,

or maybe gone off to play with his friends.

It was their collective childhood years that I as thinking about.  I am guessing that was one of the losses she felt when she knew she was dying.

My Hands

... after all these years, still busy trying
to put curls or braids
into the hair of my loved ones ....

I did some easy math with the lives of my own children.  

I have known all of them as adults, longer than I knew them as children.  

What a privilege for me, to be in the lives of so many adults, and for so many years.

Today Richard turns 39 and Rebecca turns 56 this year and so many years for the other six who are in between the first and the last.

Thank-you to them for the joy I have found there, in the post-mothering phase of my life.

Arta