These thoughts are a few days late, I realize. Sundays are not the best day for me to do anything except a.) church, and b.) long nap.
I am still not quite sure how to celebrate a day I used to hate. Well, not hate, exactly. "Feel deeply conflicted about," would be more accurate (and awkwardly-phrased). I love my own mother, so that part was good. But all the other stuff - all the flowers at the grocery store and the extra people at church* and the jewelry/Hallm.ark/flowers/make-her-breakfast-in-bed commercials running for weeks beforehand just used to take it out of me.
In many ways, I had a lovely Mother's Day. I did not take it for granted. But mostly, what I thought about was this:
to all of you,
who want to be moms more than you want anything else
even to breathe
and whose arms,
as full as they might be with life,
still feel empty sometimes at night;
all who hope
and wish upon a star
or pray with every breath you have,
you matter too, on this day.
may the child for whom you long
the one you have not yet met
be waiting just around the corner,
*you know those extra people at church on Mother's Day. The ones who show up unexpectedly shiny and with a tight grin on their faces that says, "my mom/wife/mother-in-law/sister/other female figure totally made me come today and get dressed up so I'm here but don't expect me to be happy about it." Yeah. They're there every year. They make me giggle.