1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
It was a mere gesture of friendly good intention which prompted her to share with me the words. The instruction.
The way that I, as their mother, do not add up.
I didn’t take it personal. I jumped up first, criticizing self in mirror, that I needed the words.
Needed to heed the words.
Needed to be the words.
So much more than the loud toned woman, frustrated always. Tired.
Aches in my bones and my heart, alike. Different.
Aches from trying so hard to love those previously believed unloveable, only because previous people ached to see themselves and cast these wide eyed children to the wayside.
Aches, the children, in the way their beginnings began.
Aches every second of every day for their differences. For their different. For…
For everything? Possibly. Probably. Rightly so.
Always. All around. Rounds and rounds for everyone, on everyone because this lonely, self serving world can’t get enough.
I ache to be the mom they need me to be.
I ache because I fail.
I ache because I’m not. Then I try to be, and I forget, and I fail again.
They deserve better.
But I’m what they’ve got.
Maybe I love them more than they can love. Maybe they gave the tiny bits of all they had to spare to me, heart fragments in hand.
I took them.
I ache. For them. Because of them. With them.