Happy, happy Mothers Day.

Happy, happy Mother’s Day.
By: Lora Bayh
May 9th, 2009


He brought me, what he explained was a turtle, painted partially green.
The cutest little abstract turtle my eyes have ever seen.
He brought me a little flower, in a tiny Dixie cup.
And a cookbook he’d designed himself,
With recipes “that will fill our tummies up.”
He brought me a masterpiece, he’d created for me in art.
A flower blooming, and written there, the contents of his heart.
It bestowed on me the honor of “Best Friend in the World.”,
Among it’s paper petals as if the words had just unfurled.
He brought me his excitement, that I should have a day,
When “Mommy” was a special word he loved so much to say.
He then ran off so quickly, and left me there to think,
With all those lovely treasures, he was gone before I blinked.
And as he flittered off, to adventures sure to be,
It occurred to me, how very much, he reminded me…of me.

And I thought….

A mother is a woman, who gives herself away
To the children God entrusts to her, as light to lead their way.
She’s a creature led by instinct, who acts by love alone.
She’s a once upon a time daughter with babies of her own.
She has questions, she has fears, she kisses boo-boo’s and smiles through tears.
She’s a anchor, she’s the hub, she tends to every need with love.
She had dreams, but can’t deny, her children’s victories quiet her sighs.
She gets so tired, at times confused, then she looks at them and can’t refuse.
She’s just a woman, yet in her hands, she holds the future by tiny hands
She’s nothing great, but nothing small, she’s the foundation, the wherewithal.
She is me, she’s is you, just women loving those we love with all we do.

And as I thought…

I saw through memories comforting view, my younger self with gifts that I’d made too.
And for a moment I was back, sitting so safely on her lap,
As together we discussed these gifts I brought, as if I were a gifted tot.
She smiled so lovely, my tears then grew, understanding exactly what she knew…
That a mother just needs a moment or two, when she knows that she has gotten through.
And the love she shares has been received, and is returned and valued endlessly.
The acknowledgement, the moment shared, the love that passes beyond compare
Undoubtedly enough to suffice, and so much greater than the sacrifice.
This Mother’s Day as twelve before, I’m a daughter who has a mother no more.
Yet with her love locked in my soul I’m a mother who is completely whole.
With a turtle, a flower, a cookbook and art, the best friend of the best boy with a great big heart.