A slightly tardy Mother's Day reflection...or when did these little chicks learn to fly?

A slightly tardy Mother's Day reflection...or when did these little chicks learn to fly?

Who knows if the moon’s a balloon in the sky?

    by Isabella Messina Sayre

Well not me, not alone at least, maybe after coffee and brainstorming over a notepad, about beauty and the textures we’re drawn to.

Maybe then I would know.

By that I mean, I bet I could figure it out if I had my mother’s advantage.

Something’s to be said about a woman, mais nothing’s to be said about her tics and tocks.

You don’t read about how she likes letters, but only in small doses.

They don’t write songs about how she talks with hands, and lives on cruise control.

I tried, but couldn’t find a genre to file my budding muse, my boulder (no average rock) into.


Then again, I see I am no trail blazer in my field- surely it’s not unique to love your mother.

For years I looked in vain for that correlation- the nose, the eyes, the hair- I found no pattern.

Few accolades struck home like the rare, “oh you are just like your mother!”

Then one day, strangely recently it came to me- I found the pattern, the likeness took form.

I missed the physique, the view, but gained an inestimable consolation- I got her essence.


I am no feeling- no tear, no grin, nor apathetic glance- lest derived from my mom.

I am a small slice, a perfect example, of all of her motions, emotions, successes, and failures.

My feet fit perfectly into her shoes, and I pray that they always will.


The above poem was one of two that my daughter, Ella wrote for my my Mother’s Day gift last year.  It goes without saying it is my favorite gift I have ever received.

As I write this, I am on the train to Washington, DC, where my two oldest will pick me up at the train station and drive me a few hours to the middle school graduation of my youngest. This represents a milestone in a number of ways. First, my son has a car and is driving to pick me up. This feels to me like the ultimate marker that he is indeed an independent young adult. My middle daughter is about to graduate from high school. That's right, this means that I will have two, two kids in college (I am pretty sure that this makes me old). Finally, my youngest, who is an exceptionally kind and wonderful human being is about to be in high school. As she embarks on this transition she is clear that she wants a new level of independence and that her friends are her focal point. So this is the first milestone of hers that I am mostly an observer for rather than a very active participant.

This was the first Mother's Day that I didn't have all of my kids with me.  I expected to be sad. But instead I felt this sense of calm and pride. Maybe it was the beautiful tulips my son sent on the Monday before so that I could enjoy them all week. Maybe it was the beautiful calls and notes I got from my girls. But mostly I think it is because in many ways my babies are exploring the world, out of the nest and testing their wings - this is as it should be. This was my goal as a mom.  To have kind, passionate, independent beings who had the confidence to make their way in the world. When I have flashes of worry that they will forget to fly back to the nest from time to time to give their mom a hug or maybe stay a while, I am reassured by the fact that I am their first call when they hit a bump or have a success.  Moreover, I am mindful of the fact that as an adult I am incredibly independent and simultaneously deeply connected to my mom. So I celebrate their independence rather than fear it.

That said, I cannot wait for my train to get to DC so I can wrap my babies up in a hug….



Friday Poetry

Friday Poetry

50 Favorite Words: #15 Daring (part 1)

50 Favorite Words: #15 Daring (part 1)