Being a Mother

chicken pox and hot baths, oatmeal
for breakfast, brown sugar, bananas, milk.
tears, smiles, raisin bran in backpacks on rainy nights
after tantrums, then bedtime books and jammies.
words that you swallow because you are the adult.
love so deep that rivers run over it
and somehow you don't drown.
report cards, homework, cub scouts,
bad teachers and good, locks that change
lockers at midnight, followed by police dogs.
it's all in a day's work being  mother.
you just show up and keep loving them.
the dinner where he shows up with flowers
because he won' t be here on Mother's Day
and you didn't even know it was coming, and
she texts you first thing in the morning to say
she loves you, even posting a photo of the two
of you calling you the best maman in the world.
Somewhere in there, they grew up and see you.
Being a mother, thick and thin, all you can do
is be there and love them, then one day they
grow up and fly away, you are thankful
but miss them all the same.