For Mothers but especially one 5.8.


A child stirs in restless sleep where hope is thin, until Loving hands pull the homemade quilt up to the quivering chin. A child plays in sunny abandonment outside, while Loving eyes guard movements closely from a window. A child almost loses an assignment from an unzipped backpack, But caring actions tuck it back inside, shaking her head and smiling. A child pulls out of the driveway, the first time solo, Inside, not looking, worries are pushed aside in delight at the milestone. A nearly grown child walks down an aisle, robed in accomplishment, Not seeing the proud tear on the face that started it all. …When I think about it now, mocha in a green cup, warm to my side, It’s the unseen small miracles that mattered the most, that were the guide.

(The photograph is the author’s own, from a public square in Salzburg.)

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