there is one thing second to losing a child. it is losing a mother. last night a friend told me of a life unexpectedly lost and the children left behind and our hearts shared brokenness over the phone. because we both know what is gone.
every day my children bump into me, press against me, lean in closer, veer towards me while walking. touch, hold, crawl on to. some days i think i will come out of my skin from it. other days i am brought to my knees by what i am to them and can only beg god to keep me here longer.
because underneath every flaw and shortcoming i am this to my children:
i am the taker in of all and endless, “we should” and “did you know” and “so and so says” and “i have an idea” and “can i can you can we”
i am love on repeat and shuffle and even with scratches and wear my love plays clearly.
i am you are beautiful and smart and strong and the best i know, and it is always truth.
i am the truth decider. the last piece divider. i am the endlessly in love with what you made me because i am endlessly in love with you.
i am where you want to get back to when the world feels too big and too hard breaks off pieces of you.
i am homemade and store-bought and everything in between.
i am unleaded and high octane and even diesel if needed.
i am the rubber of tummies and back scratcher. i know fever at a touch and never stay out of the sick room.
i am the back up drive for childhood memories. the savior of forgotten lunches and permission slips.
i am the stage manager and the audience.
i am the decider of quiet or loud. inside or out. now or later. keep going or time to stop.
i am the boundaries, the referee, the umpire, the ball boy. the target that guarantees a bulls-eye.
i am made of soft and welcome. nest builder.
i am home base. i am safe. the run is over. you can rest here between turns.
i am the dropper of bread crumbs to find your way home. i am the goodnight before dreams and the welcome to brand new day.
i am their world until they are ready for THE world.
i am mom.