It's a role I didn't choose in this lifetime but motherhood is something I can visit on this day, May 12th, the birthday of my mother. This was my first love and one that hasn't diminished in the years of her absence, now more than 30.
Here's a poem:
Ma-Ya (Not That)
No one will ever say -she’s the mother of my children, head bowed in homage. Yet, I am the mother of many dreams and a few scattered kindnesses.
I have been the bitch of a litter of seven puppies, the taker of portrait photographs with the requisite puff of air, and a maple tree sending forth a seedling borne on air that settled in a small patch of earth and lived 100 years.