Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

You are into your eighth decade now. You walk a bit slower. You are involved in fewer activities. Your pace. Your pace has slowed. As a result, you need a little more help. Some things are not as easy as they used to be. There are aches and pains that limit your mobility and make it difficult to do routine tasks. Time moves faster and it’s difficult to keep up. To stay on track.

However, none of these things diminish who you are. As I reflect on my time with you I am comforted by how truly blessed I am that you are my mother. My brother is the lucky one. He has three more years with you than I do. And my sister is the privileged one. She gets to spend time with you every week. But when I think of all the gifts you have given us over these 50 plus years there is not enough paper to capture them all.

First, and foremost, you gave us life. Thinking of our childhood, you taught us to play. To imagine. We didn’t play “cowboys and Indians.” We played “Indians.” We ran around outside in bare feet. We swam in rivers, the ocean, the ponds. We danced in the rain, and marveled at thunder storms. We collected strays and had our very own “Gentleman’s Farm” with various animals and a garden. Summer evenings were spent popping snap dragons and collecting fireflies. Winters included building snow forts and drinking hot chocolate.

We grew up. I’m sure our teenage years were a challenge. Yet you let us explore. There was music. And drama. And books. We traveled. We tested our boundaries always knowing there was a safe haven at home where you and daddy would catch us when we fell.

Do you know how much we love you?

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