These may be the last words they ever speak to me, I think to myself, searing them into my memory. Because today, I’m on an airplane.
A poem by Alison Wilkinson.
The early knowledge that those who mean the most to you are not invincible, that your love is not enough to save them – it turns the heart not to stone, as stories would have it.
Motherhood is all rhythm and rhythm. Rhythm and rhythm and rhythm. Then stop. The pattern of mornings repeating before you, Repeating, repeating, repeating again.
With all this multi-tasking and juggling and a to-do list that only gets longer, it can be hard to step back and appreciate the moments of amazing sweetness that occur.