A Gift of Love
19 Dec 2008
Could there be nothing richer, nothing as profound as the love of a mother for her child? When I first saw this topic, I wondered how I might decide on one person. Surely, I thought, there is the love I feel for my husband—a soul mate, if ever. A man of words.
There are my mom and da, each departed, but loved and cherished still. My older brothers, loved for certain.
In this rumination, what became clear is that my son, that sweet boy who wishes on weeds, pretends to be an astronaut, and championed the candidacy of Barack Obama because "Mom, someone's got to care for the poor"— has redefined each us simply by coming into our lives. The time before him though recalled, is less luminous. He is light and goodness—mischief and at times mayhem.
In writing this bit of missive, I found myself further thinking about the rough beginnings we each make as we come into the world; the uncertainty that frames existence and I wondered more about my son's birth mother who bravely gave up this child. A mere teen herself, I think of her now and it is she for whom I write this.
Here, I want to reach across the wide span of land and ocean that separates us and thank her. In this quasi thirdspace of digital light, I hope she finds this message. I hope this soothes her at times when she most needs to know that "our" child is well, whole, and surely loved.