I wish myself a Happy Mother’s Day, Not just for the child I bore, But for all those two-legged, four-legged And feathered beings too, Who may never be called family by the world, Yet quietly became mine in heart.
For I have found myself caring for all of them, As every mother would, with her body, mind and soul. And I wish myself well — and all of us too — Who walk into classrooms every day To nurture someone else’s child with love.
For motherhood wears many forms, And each is as beautiful as the other.
Happy Mother’s Day to all of us Who have valued our mothers, ourselves, And every soul that knows how to care deeply.
Now, as I look back into the years, Those sleepless nights and pattering feet, I wonder whether the joy was new then, Or whether it simply deepened with time.
The relief, the discomfort, the quiet pain — I remember them as though they were yesterday. A few decades may have passed since he was born, Yet those memories remain crystal clear.
The days and nights of settling down In a new world built around a tiny human being, Learning as I went, preparing myself somehow For every fever, every fall, every uncertain moment. The heat, the cold, the worry, the exhaustion — All became part of life’s strange and beautiful calling.
I remember days turning into months, And months stretching into years beyond measure. Each new phase brought newer challenges, Yet every single day was worth it all.
Today, I am not given to fruitless ceremonies. Instead, I choose to remember motherhood For what it truly was — Doing, in every moment, what I believed was best For the child who has now grown Into a fine young man.
And perhaps that, in the end, Is all a mother ever hopes for.
Wickedlyours 