…to my sweet little Momma,

who has made mothering down the bones an art form to be gazed at, moved by and emulated by all who are touched by her, which is another way of saying all who have ever met her. Whose mothering has extended to her children’s children, to the mother of those children, even down to the one who never drew breath but lives every day nonetheless.

…and to every mother whose child is not in her arms tonight. Whose hearts beat painfully under a burden of love that has nowhere to go, whose throats are tight and sore and weary from the tears she is so tired of holding back, but must. Every mother whose children are not thriving, not growing, nor ever will come into the fullness of themselves. For these mothers especially, for whom the English language has no name, not widow, not orphan, not even “mother”, for these mothers I wish a Happy Mother’s Day. Because in the words of one of these very mothers, angel babies do count.

…and finally, to Nathaniel Jeremiah, for making me one of these mothers, for bringing me closer than I have ever come to my dream of motherhood. Whose brief, bright flare leaves an imprint on the darkness, so that when I lose my way all I must do is close my eyes…

…and remember.

Shine on, my sweet baby boy. Oh, how I love you. Happy Mother’s Day.