Madre

Some days you'll catch me pulling my hair out thinking, "Why me?" But, before that last hair is drawn I remember, "Oh yeah, I planned this." Often in the busy madness of life with two kids I forget the smiles, those little feet, the tiny hands and warm hugs around my legs. I wish those moments would never be overrun with taking care of this or taking care of that. And I have to scratch at that work-is-never-ending surface of myself as Mom to uncover the real reason I became her.

You are the poem I dreamed of writing.
The masterpiece I longed to paint.
You are the shining star I reached for in my ever hopeful quest for life fulfilled.
You are my child.
Now with all things I am blessed. -Author Unknown