MOM

If you look at the way my mom is regarding this butterfly, it is clear that she relishes it. Her gaze gives off joy and gratitude for something so small and inconsequential. The time my mom gives to take things in - to notice them is distinctive. And I think this relishing of small things is a source of her love for children, for me and for my seven siblings. With children, my mom appropriated our tempos. She savored us as we were - all of us - at all of the corresponding and intersecting moments and speeds. And I think she was able to do this because of her ability to be grateful for the smallest happenings - little movements and actions that may be inconsequential, but are not unimportant. I think many people do not have this ability.

For some, children are simply a narcissistic reflection of themselves - their desires, their hopes, their youth, their bargaining with time and death. But from my mom's gaze, there was always the clear and distinct knowledge that she was observing us, playing with us, illustrating things, for us. She was taking us in and relishing us at every turn as appreciation, as gratitude. She was entirely there with us, making the commonplace task something unequivocally worth doing - something essential. Deeming us worth it all the time. From making homemade playdough to reading bedtime stories - we experienced someone who was thankful to be our mother and grateful to be herself - a grand and singular gift. I continually harvest the benefits. I love you my mom and I wish I were nearer to let you know that.