Here’s what is left of motherhood…
Bella asking me if she had ever received a hepatitis shot and me answering, “I have no idea?” (because I really don’t).
Abby texting me less than 24 hours later, asking for her Kaiser Medical Record Number. Me locating her card found bound together with a disintegrated rubber band along with her sisters cards in the glove box of my Prius.
Charlie wearing a dress for Cosette’s graduation for the first time in, I actually don't know how long.
Cosette extending heartfelt gratitude towards me on Sunday after rising up from slumber. “Thank you, Mama for hosting my graduation party,” she said as I dumped melted ice from two coolers, retrieving undrunk drinks. Each can or bottle would need to find a new home. Just like our girl, come August. Just like my girl. “You’re welcome, honey.”
The three sisters who remain at the homestead loading up in Cosette’s mint green 1987 Ford Truck, heading to the beach. One last hurrah. I hope they buckle up tight just like when they were littler.
My 21 year old wafting into our bedroom, one wall coming down at a time. Recognizing my Mother Mary painting slid down my prayer chair behind me, she gingerly picked it up and placed it gently on the dresser. “MM has my back,” I said, quite literally. She smiles in agreement. Mental note: hang MM somewhere you are reminded walls come down when they are ready.
Me sitting at this desk looking out the front window, watching littles stop with mamas and daddies. They draw with the chalk from our basket - an idea born in the Pandemic that stuck. Tom and I always thank these vagabond artists for decorating the sidewalk. And sometimes, I grab a bottle of bubbles from my secret stash and offer it as communion between Big and Little.
Is it weird that I have become the middle aged stalker lady beckoning children into her yard for brief moments as they make their way to the park?
The same park I took my girls to every single day.
Out past Maggie the Magnolia Tree.
Down the block, where we looked both ways and then again.
Grabbing sweaty palms and crossing the street together like a human wall.
Only to arrive at the other side and let go.
Running with wild abandon towards swings and sand and slides.
Towards freedom.
Here is what is left of motherhood…
Longing for what was.
Appreciation for what is.
Hope for what will come.
💜You can find out more about our community that embraces everyone exactly as they are at www.myvillagewell.com
💓Listen Here…
Listening to you read this melts my heart. I can relate in ways that rest deep in my bones. Thank you for blessing the path of memory lane.
Listening to you read this melts my heart. I can relate in ways that rest deep in my bones. Thank you for blessing the path of memory lane.