It's been so long if I really think back to the beginnings, my first adventures, my buggy full of dirt and worms and dirt caked hands you didn't even flinch instead you got the camera out, strong arms carry me up the stairs the day I got hit with the bat, long bus rides through the city taking all of us to the doctor, taxi rides other times when all were sicker or more fragile, all of the times ups or downs of growing children and an aging father and his step wife, being the catalyst for all until you went down, and then poof invisible relative except for a few Aunties who weren't even blood. The adult years I'd observe you were always strongest when I'd least expect it - just when I thought you'd crumble, tough and strong would emerge. I was always proudest of you at those times.
All of my years experienced as a mother gives more dimension to your years in the roll and to mine, and humor has been a constant companion rotating with worry and hope.
No words can say how many times I miss you or how much, and things I'd like to ask you or tell you as I come across them.
You nor I have ever been perfect, so mothering can never be perfected for it is a very long journey, but I am happy you were my Mother and love you still (ALL).
We all walk through our days together knowing we're not quite alone in it. When one is weak, another is strong, that with time and care we can survive it all, enjoying all the great days in between. The Good outweighs the Bad, and Forgiveness walks hand in hand with Love, doesn't it?
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