Early this Mother’s Day morning, as I sipped a lovely spouse-brewed-and-delivered cafe mocha leisurely in bed while half quiltily savoring Anne Lamott’s Imperfect Birds (I know, it’s Mother’s Day but it still felt so exquisitely selfish), my ten-year old son appeared quietly by my side, a bundle of droopy flannel pajamas and tossled browning hair. In his hands he proudly held something that was immediately familiar to me–that oversized, brightly colored (purple), glue-laden, construction paper card that ritualistically appears on special occasions throughout the year…Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and of course Mother’s Day. Parents know these cards….the ones with the templatized statements of love and appreciation taken down from a school chalkboard, and accompanied by a coordinating artistic endeavor that makes each card feel unique. We accept them with smiles, and lovingly add each to the pile that grows as tall as our own children in the ensuing years.
I noticed something about my son over a year ago, however. He is showing those subtle signs of a young writer within, looking to get out. He has a certain acumen for words and it’s got my attention. Here are the words he wrote to me for Mother’s Day:
Makes my day
A select few words can convey so much! What a beautiful gift for this grateful Mom.