Mother’s Day, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:44am

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I am finally the mother of adult children. I mean, that’s been technically true for over a decade, if 21 marks an adult. But it’s only now, my son having turned 32 in April and my daughter heading toward 35 in July, that they feel like full-on grownups to me.

What I mean is that they have the cognitive and emotional structures of beings to whom I would turn for friendship. Even counsel. And yet I imagine that I am for them, as my mother was for me, a bringer of memories and the comfort that comes before thinking, nestled in among the adult conversations. It’s been a little over three years since my mother died. Every time certain memories rise up–of her voice, the feel of her hair or how she put her cheek against my chin when she hugged me–I feel that mother-ness in force.

Re-casting my relationships with my own children over the years has been more complex and profound than I ever would’ve guessed. And I’m pretty much sure I’m not done with the process. I used to say, thinking I’d learned something, your baby is your Buddha. I’m laughing at myself as I write. And let’s just say that intimate relationships can be a place if you’re willing, to forge and re-forge yourself. All metal process apply. Annealing.

I wanted children from the time my mother brought my baby sister home from the hospital. Mom would sit on the chaise longue, wearing, I swear, a pink peignoir of some sort, nursing her newborn. Either a light glowed around them or the sun came through the windows in my parents’ bedroom perfectly every single afternoon. I had no idea what I was getting into; I had almost no idea what I was doing; and it remains the central experience of my life.

So I wish that anyone who has ever wanted to be a mother, whether it happens biologically, legally or simply by intent of care towards with friends and other family, has that chance. And I wish that everyone who knows motherhood is not for them, not now or not ever, just for today or also tomorrow, can be supported in their choice. I wish for a system that brings the most good to the most people.

In case anyone was wondering, I do not support the Supreme Court’s draft decision. I’m guessing you knew.

Wishing, finally, for your good weekends.

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