Today, I was asked the question, “What is it like being a mother?”
The tiny voice seeped through the slits of the stalls, unknowingly, unleashing the chambers that steadies the rhythmic beat of my soul. A simple inquiry, yet bombastic in its form, because this particular connection, plays on my sentimental strings louder than any other.
Floodgate of thoughts and emotions shot from an archman’s sheaf, all twenty-four directed at me.
Hold back the tears, curtail the smile, take a sighed breath, as the growing years rewind in the mind’s eye.
Visions of my individual osprings and their personal selves
Either climbing or removing a book from a shelf.
A bouquet of tenderness laid bare upon my heart.
It all happened the day I looked at those newborn eyes, yeah, it was right from the start.
The heart dances and the backbone glides through pulled strings which dangles from those smiles.
It’s enough to melt the very soul, joy everlasting, swiftly coursing through my veins – pulsating. . .
One by one, I watched as they developed their unique styles
How to express the joy, laughs, years, and triumphs
How to pull through adolescent, bypass teen years, and overcome life’s humps?
How to describe the hearts that help mold what you see?
It’s all in being Mom and knowing, for this type of art – there is no fee.
Motherhood, a beautiful and worthwhile callin’
But there’s no manual to guide or show the way
You take a dive — heart first — and catch them when they’re fallin’
Then remind yourself, motherhood is not for the wayward or for those who stray.