With the kids in bed, the cards long-since opened and the spoiling replaced by laundry hurriedly done before tomorrow when we hop on the hamster wheel and do it all again, I wanted to write you a note.
I saw you in Jackson, Mississippi at The Batson children’s Hospital ICU with your 8-year old granddaughter who looked four because she was so contracted. You worked full-time and came to stay with her at night to relieve your daughter.
I caught you at Target putting back those flip-flops because there were already too many things your kids needed in the cart and you figured you could get them next time.
I noticed your sweetness as you took the time to welcome the new child in class and made sure he had a friend to sit with at lunch.
I witnessed your long journey from The Brookshire’s parking lot because your toddler wanted to walk and you took the time to let her do so.
I marveled at the way your teenager gave you a knowing glance and you both erupted in laughter even though you wanted to throttle each other.
I know that there is nothing you would not do for your child. And that is your gift this Mother’s Day- the satisfaction that you’ve done the most important job ever extremely well.
I know. I’ve seen you.