[PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS IN THE PROCESS OF BEING UPDATED FROM AN OLDER FORMAT TO A NEW WORDPRESS FORMAT, SO PHOTOS AND FONTS ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE. BEAR WITH ME!]
You sang lullabies to me, still unborn. You memorized my kicks, my restlessness. Wept with joy in hope, and wept with fear in despair: how to feed this unexpected mouth? Your first baby died – you were just 22 – but the next two lived, and then three: me, the unexpected, and then one more beyond. Hungry, all – for life.
There could have been a different path with me: a back door in a Montana back alley, hangers and such illegal things. Your barren friends begged to take me. You said no. No to all that.
You held tight. You leaned in. You pushed hard, and I pushed into this world and into your arms, so unexpected. You held me tight, singing lullabies. All these years so far away, yet we cradle one another in our thoughts, in our hearts.
And now tonight I hold you tight, my strong, beloved mother. I lean into you, pushing hard to treasure our times together. I weep with joy for your life, your love. I am singing lullabies to you, dear mother.
Before I was born, you knew me…
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