A Mother’s Day Reflection

How unrealistic expectations almost ruined a perfectly good day

ChatGPT image created by the author

In the early 2000s, I wrote a column called Parent Connection for a local online paper. I searched my archives (aka, file cabinet) for the one I wrote eleven years ago entitled, “To My Daughter On Mother’s Day.”

This is a slightly edited version, as Grammarly was not part of my repertoire then.

The gifts you gave me have not been bought. Nor have they been made with scissors, paper, and glue. The true gifts are the ones you give me every day that make being your Mom the most important role in my life.

You bring me happiness when you share an awesome sunset with me.

You make me proud when you say, “Violence is stupid.”

You give me love when I tuck you in at night and joy when I wake you up each morning.

You share your child-like faith with me when we pray together.

You give me the gift of laughter when we share a joke, the sillier the better.

But, there is a gift, my darling, that you do not know you gave me.

Eleven years ago on Mother’s Day, when you were a tiny seed in my womb, I stood by the foot of my mother’s grave where the dirt was still fresh, and so was the…