You come to me in memories,
All outstretched arms and sticky smiles
Laughing carelessly, free and sure
Explaining to me in that way you do
Just how things really work in the world,
Stunningly accurate for one so small
Already certain you have something to say
And I listen as I used to do, enraptured,
Thinking about the miracles we are
How making a child seems so simple
Until you see it happen for yourself
How you were once a pink wrinkled thing
Born screaming with hunger and fury
Not even a little bit afraid to live out loud
Demanding everything now now now
How I was putty in your hands
And you shaped me into mother
Letting all the pieces not fitting the image
Fall to the floor like crumbs
Memories fall like leaves, skidding across the sidewalk at my feet. Coloring the landscape with painful reminders of my children—the dreams I had for my family, the yearning of what could have been… The falling away from the mother tree.
A healthy leaf slowly dies, becoming brittle, it’s edges crumple, colors fade… though torn from the tree it is never forgotten. Those memories will always be a part of me, of who I am.
The leaf is broken but with the last of its strengthen, it returns to the ground, to nurture the roots, to give birth to new life in another season. That is how mothers endure the most difficult and impossible situations, they are rooted to the memories of their precious children, in the depths of the cold, dark soil–they reach for light.
© Lynn Mari, 2013 Love Letters To Our Children