Another One

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I can feel the swirl of mother this morning. Mothering, motherless— all of it.
Some are feeling the up close razor of having just lost their mother; some, like me, nodding to the blade that has rested against the heart for years and absently running a finger across the wound that healed into a complicated scar that on days like today, throbs with new tenderness.
Over morning coffee, I texted friends who are mothers. I marvel all year long at how they do this life with other lives tied to theirs and wonder, how? How the fuck are they doing this? The world is on fire and my friends are eating flames to keep them from immolating their kids. They’re going to work, the grocery store, endlessly long baseball games, and in their spare time dragging a stone in a heavy circle to make a fire break around themselves and the ones they love. Jesus God, it’s a holiness I’ll never understand.
I learn from them. I worship them, these mother friends of mine. The way they are raising their children with kindness and freedom, caring for themselves, and nurturing friendships demands my deep respect. There is a future I won’t be in that holds the progeny of these women, and let me tell you, it is bright. Beautiful. Creative. Hopeful.
Celebrating you today, my friends (and sisters) who most often go by Mom. Thank you for the way you love the world. You make it better for us all.