…the weave of it

my love,

we are making the slow transition into yet another phase of our lives. from anxious and newly minted, to prideful with caution, to now anxious again but somewhat weathered. we’re reaching the point where i am tempted to say, ‘ok, we’ve done our part, we’ve set up these little engines and off they go.’

but not you. no, not you at all. this thing with our kids, this blanket of love and care and comfort, if anything, for you the loom spins faster, the weave more intricate, more color, more stitch. all without effort, endlessly. each thread more confident than the last, stronger, more encompassing but forgiving, they are able to stretch and grow and without snapping.

your love for them knows no bounds. it is filled with worry and regret and admiration and strength and warmth and compassion. we are built for things in this life and part of the point of living is figuring out what that thing is and hopefully, with enough time, getting good at it. i cannot help but think, this has always been your purpose, to love us, care for us, guide us, comfort us. to be what we could never be, to teach us how to be, to weave something true and real and unending.

Happy Mother’s Day

always,
me