Jun 5, 2009
To My Son,
Mother’s Day is coming soon. As you do every year, you will feel bad that you can’t buy me something. Words cannot make you fully understand why I prefer the things you make me with your own small hands to anything you could get for me with money. One day your own child will shyly give you a handmade gift or card and you will know, as do I, the thought and effort that went into this creation. You will also know that no store can possibly duplicate the effort that went into this gift of love. Let me see if I can explain why no amount of cash can purchase what you have given me.
You try to buy me flowers. You can’t see the garden that blooms within me every time I see you perform a kind gesture for a stranger. You don’t know that every kind gesture you perform plants a seed in the mind of those you do kindness to.
You wish to buy me a necklace, but I prefer the glow in my heart that outshines any jewel that would adorn my neck. The jewel in my heart gets brighter with every hug I get from you.
That ring in the store begs you to put it on my finger. How can you not see that your hand in mine is the only adornment I require? (more…)
May 28, 2009
I have so much to say so please bear with me. It’s strange how life can twist and turn and your life-long fantasy of how things should be just drifts away with the next breeze that blows by.
I wanted the perfect life for you. I wanted to be able to give you everything and anything you wanted. To say that I have always wanted you would be an understatement. I have longed for a child and was blessed to find out that you were going to grace my life in a short nine months.
Your father and I were together since I was 15 years old. Everyone warned me that, although he might be fun to date, he would never provide me with security and was not “marriage material”. I didn’t listen. I wanted to believe he would change and that my presence in his life would make him want to be a better man.
We married and my life became clear. My life would consist of never having a home of my own and working long hours just to support my husband, who would not even attempt to leave the house or his video games. We lived with my mother and I adjusted to his ways. He was an adult who never grew up. (more…)
Apr 9, 2009
To the lady at the counter in the craft store yesterday,
You may not have realized I heard you as we stood next to each other at the craft store counter yesterday, though your words were obviously meant for me. As you were rolling your eyes and grumbling about how mothers should control their out-of-control, noisy children in stores, I was too busy reveling in the blessing that is my son to react to your words.
Contrary to your belief, my son was not making loud noises, dancing and jumping because he is an ill-behaved child. He was not a brat getting away with disrupting a checkout line under the nose of his tired mother, me.
My son is autistic. (more…)