THOUGHTS ON Memorial Day

 

When I was a boy I don’t think I understood the meaning of Memorial Day.

I knew people got together to commemorate...to remember...and to pray.

But I thought of it as an old people’s holiday...I was just happy to be out of school.

Now I look back at that naive little boy and consider him a fool.

In high school and college, since I never had to fight, and it was a different time,

I hated everything about war...it’s reason and it’s rhyme.

I did not heed the lessons of war and the men and women who taught it.

I did not understand one could hate war...but have respect for those who fought it.

But now that time has slowly left it’s signature on me

I’ve come to realize my folly and see Memorial Day differently.

I know that when it comes to war…a strange randomness we must apply

I know some people are going to survive…and some are going to die

I know that those who die in war might be black or white or gay, 

I know they may be men or women...but they all die anyway.

I know that on Memorial Day we are able to put our differences aside

as we come together to commemorate every soldier who has died.

So on this and every Memorial Day…I’ll continue to wish all wars would cease

and continue thank all those who died in war...so that I may live in peace.

And while I’m on the subject…I’ll continue to hope and pray

we’ll find a way to put our differences aside…

not just today…

but every day.

YOUNG LOVE

There is a magic that, if we’re blessed, throughout our life persists…

a phenomenon that can’t be explained by philosophers or scientists.

It’s been around long before we were born and will be around long after we are through…it’s something you might find hard to believe…until it happens to you.

It can only occur naturally…it can’t be manufactured…or bought…and only after you’ve experienced it does it become easier to spot.

You can see it in your family and friends with just the naked eye…it is particularly easy to spot in older couples walking by.

Since, once experienced it becomes easier to see…

I wonder…if Charles Darwin knew of its origin…or Isaac Newton its gravity.

Surely something this fascinating begs for the expertise…of Plato…

his mentor Aristotle…

or his student, Socrates.

And what is this phenomenon whose praises have long been sung?

It’s the fact that even as our bodies grow old…the love inside us stays young.

That, even as we age and our actions and reflexes are slowing,…the love we first experienced long ago in our hearts and minds…keeps growing.

It is a fact we all will die…to think differently is a fools endeavor…

but love…once it’s touched us and touched another…will live on…forever.

Love has a way of defying time and space…of gravity…of origin and causation…

of never being fully understood…of eluding explanation.

And I, for one, having experienced it…

feeling its wonder every day…

am not only glad it is so mysterious…

but wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

A LITTLE GOOD NEWS

 

Today…a little good news…news that, hopefully, makes you glad…

even though this good news…originated from the bad.

This story begins five years ago…it takes its initial breath inside a women’s sadness…grieving her son’s death.

Move ahead five years…her son’s birthday is today…

and her grief resurfaces as it always does…for it will never go away.

She wanted a way to deal with her grief…in the best way that she could…

Hoping from her sadness…she could create something good.

She thought and thought searching for an idea…and when her thinking was done…

She decided to find a way to give…to another mother and her son.

Move now to a mother picking up her son’s birthday cake…tears of joy and sorrow she cried when she opened up the cake box and read the note inside.

It was from the mother of the son who died…Tyler was his name…written to the mother of the son who lives…whose birthdays are the same.

She paid for the cake in honor of her son…to keep his memory bright…

The note said…enjoy the day…make special memories and hug your children and loved ones tight.

She chose this way to commemorate her son..to help keep his memory awake…

Because as a mother she loved birthdays…while her son loved birthday cakes.

The words were written lovingly…they were compassionate and kind…

Love, Toni, Tylers mom…is how the note was signed

I like to think it was the best birthday…and best birthday cake…that family ever had

As one woman found a way for something good…

to come out of something bad.

COUNTING BLESSINGS

 

I was counting my blessings the other day…marveling at how far those blessings extend as we ate dinner out one night with family…and the next morning ate breakfast out with friends.

I looked around the table…thinking WOW!…how time has flown

marveling at how tall, in such a short time, our grandchildren have grown.

Talking to them more like adults…subjects we never talk about before…

wondering when they stopped being babies…or children any more.

Hoping as I always do…that this moment would not end…

enjoying how each family member, over time, has become a friend.

The next morning…more blessing to count…more good fortune…more dividends…as we sat around a table having breakfast with old friends.

Reminiscing…telling stories of a time when we all taught….

some stories I remembered…some stories I did not.

Listening to new stories about our families…feeling each others pride…

talking about the good and bad times on life’s roller coaster ride.

Hoping as I always do…this moment would go on indefinitely

enjoying how our old friends, over time, have become our family.

Sitting at both tables I found myself amazed at how even blessings can transcend…for now I’m blessed with friends who are my family…and a family filled with friends.

A FLOWER IN THE SAND

On a recent walk along the beach…like most great walks…unplanned…we stopped because below our feet there was a flower growing in the sand.

I said, “Tell me little flower because I’d like to understand…of all the places you could live…are you happy growing in the sand?”

“Funny you should ask.” The flower said as he looked up at us and grinned.  “I had a lot of time to think about that as I rode upon the wind.”

“Would I end up on a mountaintop…neath the pine trees would I grow…would their needles keep me warm and safe under the winter snow?”

Would I be dropped in a field of wildflowers…to be visited by the butterflies and the bees…enjoying the sunshine and the rain while swaying in the breeze?”

“Would I end up in a little girl’s garden…where she gets down on bended knee…every morning just to stop and say hello to me 

“Would I grow up sheltered in the forest…is that how the creator designed me…under trees that lift their branches during the day so the rays of the sun could find me?”

“These and other thoughts like these rode along with me…as I floated on the winds awaiting my destiny.”

“To be honest as I drifted on the air…this destiny I hadn’t planned…I never dreamed I’d be a flower growing in the sand.”

“But here’s a little secret when we’re created every seedling knows:

Wherever beauty is needed…that’s where a flower grows.”

We were created for one purpose…to bring beauty to the land…

so my answer to your question is YES…I am happy growing in the sand.”

I think of that little flower often…that flower growing in the sand…

and I wish his little secret…the whole world would understand.

 

AT A CHILD'S SOFTBALL GAME

 

If you’re lucky…if you’re blessed you can discover joy at any time…in any place…I remember the day I found it…of all places…upon a child’s face.

I remember we were far removed from fortune and from fame…sitting in the stands at a child’s softball game.

I watched this little girl strike out…on three pitches…without ever swinging the bat…I watched her smile all the way to the dugout and I thought…how’d she find joy in that?

Next time up she got a hit and that same smile crossed her face…the same smile as she took off and landed safe on second base.

She played the field wearing that same smile and immediately I thought…that smile appears on her face when the ball is hit…whether she catches it…or not!

She played with the same joy when she did well…when she made the perfect play as she did when she made an error…when she threw the ball away.

I remember watching the game that night and becoming happily aware…her joy wasn’t in how well she did…her joy was just being there.

And mine too…as I thought to myself…how lucky that I came…and how blessed to discover the face of joy…at a child’s softball game.

NOT HIS FIRST CHOICE

Growing up he wanted to the smartest kid in class…he wanted his mental capacity to rule…he wanted people to whisper as he walked by…there goes the smartest kid in school.

And, although he was a good learner, so much of what he learned he soon forgot…so as far as being the smartest…he definitely was not.

He was going to be a football star…he dreamed of the sports world knowing his name…he dreamed of lifting the trophy over his head…he dreamed of fortune and he dreamed of fame..

But one has to have certain skills to play football…skills this young boy lacked…so he never made it on a football team…let alone its quarterback.

He wanted to be an astronaut…when he put on his uniform he wanted women to swoon…he wanted the world to proudly watch…as he stood upon the moon.

But he would get all nervous when confined in a small place…and he got sick in the back of a car…who knows what would happen in outer space.

He wanted to be a doctor…a surgeon…a surgeon better than all the rest…the surgeon people called when the surgeon they needed was the best.

But all that studying…all those years of schooling…he knew, for him, would not be easy…and even the slightest drop of blood always made him queasy.

So he found his way to teaching…to help others who forget…who might have trouble with a quiz…who perhaps aren’t as athletic…who had problems similar to his.

And though he never thought himself the best teacher…he was as happy as can be

Teaching his students:

You don’t have to be the best…just be the best that you can be.

A lesson to this day as a teacher…he continues to spread….

Happily living a life he didn’t choose…

a life that chose him instead.

 

A SPECIAL KIND OF ARTIST

 Some say inside every artist is a special type of person…

of this I have no doubt…

but I also know

inside every person

there is a special kind of artist

waiting to come out.

A BREAKTHROUGH OF SORTS

 

I saw this thread hanging from my shirt the other day and was hit with a memory…back to my first year of teaching in Florida…and a young girl named Stephanie.

Stephanie was a beautiful little girl…her Autism…she was trapped in it…

she could not talk but whatever she had in her hands…oh…could that girl spin it.

Pencils…books…two by fours…I’ll never forget her grinning as she took any object she could find…and started it to spinning.

Like many young teachers when I started with Stephanie I was determined I would find…the reasons for her spinning…the secrets to her mind.

But Stephanie hated to he held…all she wanted to do was spin…as determined as I was to enter…she was just as determined not to let me in.

I was always watching her closely…looking for a sign…until one day, from across the room…I saw her eyes meet mine.

She threw her arms up in the air…her hands were shaking like leaves on a tree…I took this as a sign…she was calling out to me.

The closer I got to her…the bigger the smile on her face…and when I finally reached her desk…she jumped into my embrace.

With Stephanie clinging hard to me I waltzed across the floor…thinking this is the breakthrough moment I’d been hoping for.

I was proud of this accomplishment…proud of Stephanie and me…so I called to the teacher next door…I wanted her to see.

“Can you believe it!” I said to her. “Miracles do happen if we believe.”

“Jim,” she chuckled, “take a look at what that miracle is doing to your sleeve.”

My bubble immediately burst…I admit my pride was hurt…it seemed my breakthrough moment began with a thread hanging from my shirt.

Noticed by a little Autistic girl…who’s plan I now believe…was to lure me over…put her arms around my neck…and start unravelling my sleeve.

I think I would have figured it our eventually…Stephanie’s little con…

most likely when she’d finished…and my entire shirt was gone.

I set her back into her seat…she was crying…she didn’t understand…

So I cut off what was left of my sleeve…and put it in her hands….

Immediately with a smile on her face she began to spin it…spinning that one entire thread…I smiled…this time from across the room…”You’re welcome, Stephanie.” I said.

It turned out to be a breakthrough moment…not for Stephanie but for me…as deep within the silence of her Autism….I found my humility. 

And I learned how tenuous is happiness as through this world we tread…

How many times we find…

it is hanging by a thread.

DEAR GRANDPA

 

Dear Grandpa,

Mommy said you went to heaven…she said it’s not like going to the store…she said, once you go to heaven…we won’t be seeing you no more.

She said whenever I am sad and missing you…there is something I can do…she said to send my thoughts to heaven and they’ll find their way to you.

She said I should write you a letter and my sadness will recede…besides she said you know your grandpa…and how much he likes to read.

She said to do the best I can for she knows I’m just a boy…she said not to write about how sad I am…but to write about our joy.

I remember all those books you’d read to me…my favorite was the dancing giraffe…I remember all those jokes you’d tell…all those times you made me laugh.

I remember watching TV in your arms…falling asleep before the show was through…I remember waking up to find…you were sleeping too.

I remember throwing airplanes in the park…watching them soar so high…I remember when you’d pick me up..and together we would fly.

Hey, you know Mom was right…she said if sat down and wrote you a letter

that I wouldn’t be as sad…that it would make me feel better.

But I’m a little tired now…I hope you understand

If I bring this letter to a close…because all this writing hurts my hand…

But do not worry Grandpa…I’ll send you letters day and night…

because I have a lot more paper…and so much more to write.

So good night Grandpa…I hope this letter finds you happy…

when it finds you in the sky….

Mom said I should say good night…

and never say goodbye.

SPITTING IMAGE

 

Whenever I eat watermelon I’m reminded of Deborah’s dad…of summers in North Carolina and the good times our family had.

While Deborah’s dad was still alive…still with us…from our creator…here on loan…he was perhaps the kindness and most gentle man I have ever known.

There are many things I loved about him…his tenderness…his generosity…his wit…but watermelon always makes me think of how I loved the way he spit.

As a family we loved picnics…playing in the fields…the rivers…the dirt…and we made sure that every picnic culminated with watermelon for dessert.

After we finished playing and eating we’d gather round the watermelon for it’s splitting…and as we each cradled our half-moon piece in our hands…we’d anticipate the spitting.

For that was our tradition…after Deborah’s dad had split it…we’d line up, put a watermelon seed in our mouth and see how far that we could spit it.

In all the years he was alive…every picnic we ever had…no one in our family could out-spit Deborah’s dad.

We loved to watch him spit those seeds…loved to see the happiness on his face…it never mattered to the rest of us…we only vied for second place.

That’s why whenever I bite into a watermelon…my heart and mind proceed…to picnics long ago and our family spitting seeds.

He’s been gone for many years now but I always eat watermelon with such glee…remembering all the seeds of joy he planted…on those picnics in NC.

Our children have all grown…we don’t have as many family picnics as he once had…

But I am lucky…for I still picnic often with Deborah 

who happens to be…the spitting image of her dad.

ARCTURUS

 

I see Arcturus every morning…and every morning I say, “Hi!”

for he brightens up my morning…from his bright spot in the sky.

I’ve developed an affinity for Arcturus…you might say…of him…I am protective…because his spot of light from up above helps with my perspective.

He is old…astronomers estimate his age at 7 billion years or more…

and he’s not the brightest star in the night sky…in fact…he’s number 4.

But he is proof that no matter how long you live…no matter how old you are…you can keep on shining….as long as there’s light left in your star.

Every morning when I look up…I see him as a sign…that I don’t have to be the best…for my inner light to shine.

It doesn’t matter if I’m the brightest…in everything I do…and everywhere I go…to me…to my friends…and to my family it only matters that I glow…

That’s why I have an affinity for Arcturus…

for when it comes to my friends and my family…

I hope I will always find a way

Like him…just like Arcturus…

to be a bright spot in their day.

NEVER WALK ALONE

 

I noticed the old man every morning as he walked by on his own…one day I stopped and asked him, “Old man…why do you walk alone?”

The old man, who was always smiling, turned and his smile fell on me… “I never walk alone.” he said, “as long as there are trees.”

“As long as there are birds who in those trees do sing…as long as there are crickets chirping…as long as there are flowers in the Spring.”

As long as there’s a breeze in my face…as long as there is water in the bay…as long as there are rabbits who hop with me along the way.” 

“As long as there are owls who hoot heir morning tune…as long as looking down on me…there is a sliver of the moon.”

“As long as there are stars and planets in colors white and yellow and red…as long as there are clouds to greet me gently floating overhead.”

“You ask why I walk alone,” he said, “but alone I never will be…as long as the memory of my wife is walking next to me.”

“I’d love to stay and talk more,” the old man winked, “but it is such a beautiful day.” Then the old man smiled saying, “so we best be on our way.”

Most days now I wave at him as he walks with his memories…

his trees…

his clouds…

but every now and then…

with the old man’s blessing…

he lets me join the crowd.

MORE KINDNESS

 

Here is what makes kindness so beautiful…

so surprising

such a wonderful endeavor:

You never know when your kindness to another person

will change their world…forever

MORE TIME

Why do so many of us only come tor realize our time on Earth is precious after someone dies?

Why is it so many of us say…“I should have taken more time with them

to love…

to laugh…

to play….

only after that person has left us…only after they’ve passed away?

Why does it take a person dying to make us think of the world we wanted to create?  

Why do we wait to do all the things we should have done…

until it is too late?

I wish everyone could understand before a death…

how time is a gift 

bestowed upon us by our creator…

from above…

a gift to be shared over and over again

with all of those, in life, we love.

I wish we all would spend more time 

with the ones we love 

while the ones we love still live…

because ‘more time’ is a gift…

the creator does not give.

 

SPONGES

 

I wonder if the best way to describe us humans (yes, every other definition you can now expunge) is to simply say, for the record, every human is a sponge.

It makes perfect sense when you think about it…if you take the time to graph the composition of a human…water makes up over half.

Just look at how we learn…how we absorb new information into our brains…absorbed until each time we need it…we squeeze it out again.

Our souls absorb each days experiences…all our successes…all our scars…and each day what has been absorbed…changes who we are.

Yes, what is absorbed by our souls is what makes us who we are…and by our brains is what makes us smart…but, I believe, the ultimate proof that we are sponges can be found without our hearts.

It is through our hearts we absorb another person’s happiness and joy…where we absorb their sadness and their fears…and when we’re overflowing with either one…it is our heart that squeezes out our tears.

From the time when we are a little…a little girl…or little boy…it is through a hug we absorb directly…another person’s joy.

And I imagine there is no one who hasn’t felt…in their heart and soul and brain…when another person’s hug…has absorbed some of their pain.

So here’s to all the human sponges out there…

as we travel together on this orb….

may we never lose our softness 

and our ability to absorb.

THE OLD MAN IN A BOAT

 

Our nephew and his lovely wife invited us for an afternoon on their boat

and I immediately thought of The Old Man And The Sea…you know the book that Hemingway wrote.

As I lounged in the softness of my seat and felt the wind blowing through my hair…I wondered about Hemingway’s fisherman…and how he and I would compare.

We learned Santiago was an old and experienced fisherman as his story did unfold…I am not a fisherman…but like Santiago…I am old.

Santiago put in early…it was for the big catch he did wish…our boat left the dock around midday heading to a restaurant where we’d eat fish.

Santiago’s boat was a little skiff…he fished all day and all night under the moon…we were out for a few hours in a bigger boat…with a motor…and pontoons.

Santiago fought an enormous marlin…worried he’d make a mistake…without a worry we gawked at enormous houses on our leisurely ride across the lake.

Santiago fished alone…hoping the bad luck he experienced of late would come to an end…I sat there thinking how lucky I was to be surrounded by family and friends.

Santiago braved the elements…the fish…his own fatigue…the cold…Gee, I guess when I really look at it…all we have in common is that the two of us are old.

Yes, after throughly thinking this through…that’s the only comparison I can see…between my experience yesterday…and the old man and the sea.

And although Hemingway’s novel won him a Pulitzer and is, arguably, one of the finest books he wrote…I think I prefer my version of the old man in a boat.

GRANDPA, WHAT IS LOVE?

 

“Grandpa...what is love?” His grandson asked with wonderment in her eyes.

“You ask a question with many answers.” His Grandpa said. “Let me try and clarify.”

“Love is like the moon.” he said.”It softly enchants our gazes…Its light is strong…its light is infinite…yet…it goes through many stages.”

“Love is like the sun...ablaze and fiery hot…It can be loud and bright and in many ways it is everything the moon is not.”

“Love is like the wind…invisible and sweet…it can enter like a summer breeze…or knock you off your feet.”

“Love is like a tree...it’s beauty…heaven-made…It supplies us with the air we breathe,

and the comfort of its shade.”

“When the leaves begin to fall as the autumn winds begin to blow…trees remind us…part of love…is also letting go.

“Love is like the ocean…it constantly flows upon our shore…and no matter how much water it contains…there is always room for more.

“Love is like this flower…its beauty and aroma can fill a room…and like a flower love needs love if it is ever going to bloom.”

When he paused to think about all he’d said…all the words he’d been combining…he wasn’t sure his grandson understood all the love he was defining.

“But as complicated as love can be…” he smiled, “it can be simple too…as simple as how my heart beats faster whenever I’m with you.

This said…his grandson’s face lit up…then he took his grandpa’s hand…both glad that Grandpa found the words to make his grandson understand.

PERSPECTIVE

 

Whenever I lose perspective…when I forget what’s important to me…

I have a simple solution… I remember Phil and Lee:

My Autistic students and I had a Meals on Wheels route…to me it was a union made in heaven…you take students who’s Autism isolated them…who from society seemed unplugged…and have them deliver meals to older…lonely people…who only want to socialize…who cannot wait to hug.

The Meals on Wheels people were a little worried…they had a few doubts and fears…so they paired us with Phil and Lee…an older couple who’d been delivering Meals for years.

Phil and Lee were in their 80’s…that my students had Autism…they didn’t care…and I felt blessed that their love, their wisdom and their kindness they were so willing with us to share.

It was supposed to be a temporary pairing…my class with Phil and Lee…but something happened that surprised everyone…The Meals on Wheels people…the school board…and me.

There was no doubt Phil and Lee liked my students…that was plain to see…and though in many cases it was subtle…I could tell my students liked Phil and Lee.

I can’t say my students looked forward to the hugs they received during each meal delivery…but I do know…by their smiles…they looked forward to Phil and Lee.

And so we quickly put to rest all those worries and doubts and fears…as Phil and Lee and my students delivered Meals together…for years.

After moving to a new school I kept in touch with Phil and Lee…one day I received a call…from Lee…one worried wife…cancer had taken one of Phil’s legs…it would eventually take his life.

I rushed to the hospital…smiled at Lee…then stood by Phil’s bedside…where the three of us laughed and smiled as we reminisced…and occasionally we cried.

When it was time for me to go…Lee stood up…and quickly wiped away her tears then leaned in to kiss the man she’d loved…for over 60 years.

But Phill could not raise up…and Lee was unsteady on her feet…so I gently pushed their heads together and allowed their lips to meet.

Lee put her arm through mine and as I walked her to her car…she said, "Jim sometimes we forget in life…just how fortunate we are”.

“Sometimes we worry about so many little things…Today I’m thankful you arrived…and I’m thankful that, for another day, my Phil is still alive”.

Now whenever I lose perspective…that feeling I quickly dismiss

as I touch the spot on my cheek…where Lee left me that day…with a kiss.

And I remember how lucky I am for the life I have…how lucky I am to be me…

and how lucky I was to have in my life…friends like Phil and Lee.

LOVE

 My thinking has changed over the years…as it has with people throughout the ages…sometimes I think our minds are like butterflies…our thinking grows in stages.

When you think about it…physically…we change a little every day…just look in the mirror…you can tell…so doesn’t it make perfect sense…our thinking would change as well?

Take love for instance…how beautiful is love…for there’s no greater gift I do believe…than love…as wonderful to give…as it is wonderful to receive.

When I was younger…in my cocoon…still learning to find my way in a life so new…my vision of the world was limited…my vision of love was too.

I didn’t understand, yet, how love is truly a work of art…how it’s easier to see love when I close my eyes…and open up my heart.

I didn’t understand, then, how we were all created to love…to love ourselves and other people too…how it only matters that we love…it doesn’t matter who.

Now when I see people in love…any people…any size, any color, sex, shape or age…I smile knowing like a butterfly…my metamorphosis of love is in it’s final stage.

The stage where everything I’ve learned…comes together and converges…

so when the butterfly comes out of his cocoon…with him…love emerges

NOT JUST A PAIR OF OLD SHOES

 

There juste a par of old Keds that for a long time Deborah has worn…they’re frayed…they’re stained…they have a few holes…their edges have been torn.

Over the years she’s added to them a bit of her own art…there’s a bird…a peace sign…a flower and her favorite…a flying heart.

She’s been reluctant to buy new ones…saying “no new shoes could compete…with my Keds…the most comfortable shoes I’ve had the pleasure to wear upon my feet.”

I have no doubt, after all these years, they are a comfortable pair of shoes…but are they comfortable because they’re comfortable…or because they give her comfort too?

Does she remember, no matter where she’s walked, these shoes have not forsaken her?

Does she remember every time she slips them on…all the places they have taken her?

Is it possible these shoes…now old and weathered and thin…not only take her where she’s going…but remind her where she’s been?

Perhaps that’s the key to her shoes…what transcends them into a work of art…for not only do they bring comfort to her feet…they bring comfort to her heart.

Or could it be, as we get older…as each year we get a little more weathered and tattered…and gray…we don’t feel the same need to throw old things away.

As for me…I hope she keeps on wearing her old Keds because no matter how tattered..or torn…I think they are the most beautiful shoes she has ever worn.

MOM!

 

MOM!  How many times a day is it uttered?  How many times is it heard?  So I thought I’d take a look at the evolution of that word.

As babies we learn quickly who comes to look us in the eye and give us everything we need…the moment that we cry.

When we notice she keeps coming back…whenever we call her…night or day…Is it any wonder why MOM is the first word we ever learn to say?

We realize the importance of that word…from the moment we first choose it…and how it changes in it’s meaning…almost every time we use it.

MOM! I’m hungry. When do we eat?…MOM! Is that a butterfly or a bee?…MOM! I can’t find my favorite toy…MOM! I fell down and scraped my knee.

MOM! Can I have a friend sleep over?   MOM! Today I got into a fight.   MOM! I need help with my homework…MOM! Do I have to brush my teeth tonight?

MOM! Is it OK if I borrow the car?  Yes, I have a date. MOM! I know…I know…I know…MOM! I won’t be home too late.

MOM! Hi, yes it’s me…no worries…college is a breeze…but I was wondering, if you have the time…MOM! could you send some money…please?

MOM! I’m coming home this weekend…at the dinner table…can you set another seat…I’m bringing home someone special…I’d like you and Dad to meet.

MOM! We’re getting married…Could you help us plan our wedding day?  MOM! Guess what…it happened…you’re a grandmother today.

MOM!…it’s been a while…everything’s fine…just wanted to hear your voice today…

MOM is sick!…She’s asking for me…tell her I’m on my way.

MOM!…I’m going to miss you…MOM!…I know you said don’t cry…

MOM!…don’t go…I’m not ready…MOM I don’t want to say goodbye.

I guess we never know from the first time we smile up at her…the first time we feel her touch…that a word that seems so simple…will come to mean so much.