Before We Became Mothers

for Janice

Photo by Ilya lix on Unsplash

Before we become mothers - stretching,
back-breaking, baby-wearing homes for
little humans to cry, grab at, and hug -
we were your extra weight, your tag-along,
your grocery-store buddies, looking up,
always looking up at you, to you, searching
for you in a crowd and every time you tried
to go to the bathroom alone. Now that this
overwhelming, sleepless, glorious calling is
mine, I see you. I see you even more clearly
than I did before. The cost. The selfless days
clearing a table that could never stay clean,
holding sewing needles in your teeth as you
smoothed crinkly tissue paper patterns onto
floral cotton late into the evenings, creating
summer dresses that I would wear for years
and listening to my stories no matter how
long. I talk so much and so fast and you
have never treated me like I was too much.
May I pass that onto my own daughter -
your legacy of grace. I hope she will drive
with me down a road just to discover what’s
ahead, the way we always did on our mini-
adventures. I’ll never forget the vineyards we
discovered, or stomping into the mud and
ducking under privacy fences just to get the
perfect picture of old rubble at golden hour.
You were and are my forever best friend.
I hope you know that.