Sunday, March 19, 2017


Herself speaks.

All three of the Offspring were in the nest for several days this past week. It was lovely to have them all here -- there is something undeniably comforting about having them all in one location. (Must be the herding dog tendencies that many mothers have; circle circle circle everyone is accounted for and safe and sound circle circle circle.)  I brought in some take-out food from a local restaurant one night; another night, we all went to the movies; and the final night I cooked steaks for the meat-eaters and fancy ravioli for the vegetarian. We hung out, and got along. It was Very Nice Indeed.

Sometimes, I look back and think about times past, when we would have pancakes for dinner and I would read them books before bedtime. When I could, many times, somehow magically ascertain the things they needed, and the words they needed to hear. When running through the sprinkler or going to the park was all we needed to be happy.

Sometimes I think about how I could have been a better mother when they were young.

I hope they know that I tried, and will keep trying, every day, always. I am here for you, my beloved Offspring, no matter how near or far you may be.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

- Kahlil Gibran

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