It happens from time to time to come across things that remind me that something from the past keeps them connected to me, even if they are “sitting quietly” in a drawer. Those little things become a safe box filled with gems when I open them. They give me a world with living or long gone characters and a lot of love.
It is the same with the poem written below. It was on one of the cards I received on March 8, many years ago. A written greeting card while my son was in kindergarten. Of course, the teacher, the mother of all the children she worked with, wrote the poems in handwriting. A gesture that a person who thinks with her soul, who loves children and puts passion into her profession can do it.
The child’s love is offered with it along with his words “Happy birthday, Mommy!”
I am small, dear mom, But I love you so much And I would like to give The whole earth to you. But you see, dear mom, I am so small The earth is big And I can not lift it. But from all over the earth As far as the eye can see I picked a flower I would love to give it to you.
I do not know what memories you, the reader of these lines, have of the pure love that a child can offer, but mine are still alive. Time has only sprinkled stardust on them. So, whenever I see that greeting card or something like that, the memories come back to life and shine brighter and brighter. That is because they are carved somewhere in time, in the heart of eternity, as a symbol of a pure child’s love for his mother.
Along with the congratulations, the card brings back more memories:
Do you want cake? Yes! He doesn't finish answering and puts his fist in the middle of the cake … 🙂
An unconditional love
The child has told and wrote his love, as he knew it. He drew greeting cards as he knew and was glad to see me smiling… He expressed his sincere love.
Many times, as a student, he had bought (with what savings he could make) small frames that had become fashionable for March 8 (Mother’s Day), more than 20 years ago. Simple wooden frames with a few words: “diploma for the best mother” (one is still on the wall 🙂)
I don’t know if I have been the best mother because every man has only one mother and we don’t have a term of comparison for her. But I know that I was a mother who raised her child as a single mom, trying to meet the demands of an egoistic society. I have often allowed the work and the need to have a roof over our head, the need to have a warm meal, to weigh more heavily than the time spent with my child. I know that I let worries and needs often erase the smile on my face. I know I was as good as I knew at that time to be. I also know that regrets are pointless.
The years have passed for both of us, but that pure love of a child is still there. We live hundreds of miles apart, but that doesn’t stop him from asking me, “Are you okay, Mom?”
Being a Mother
“Mama” (mother), is a simple word written with just two repeated letters. A word that gives you a job for a lifetime. It is a job you do not learn in school, and no piece of paper called a diploma can be equivalent.
I know that the job of being a “mother” is learned as we walk on the path of life, every day with the child. It is a job for which the school is just the life. The child’s pains and tears become his mother’s lessons.
The diplomas I have collected for each course or degree will never be equivalent to this job. Its equivalent is in smiles, laughter, tears of joy, in big eyes, wide open to any newly discovered miracle. For me, the equivalent of this job is the words spoken by this child, who has become an adult: “I love you, mom.” Or, “If I were to be born again, I would like you to be my mother, too.” It is equivalent only to the happiness written on the face of the being I gave life.
Time passes on us as it does on everyone else. That’s why I’m happy every day that I can still hear his voice, that I can still see or feel his smile or tears. I am happy that I was able to give birth to a child, a miracle called life. I will be happy that I can love him, I can give him what a mother offers with all her soul: a mother’s love, as long as I live.
Thank you, dear child, for coming into my life, thank you for everything you have taught me. Thank you for offering me the job of a mother.
PS: With all my love for the miracle of my life, and for all the wonders of the world called “child“. With respect for all men and women who love the miracle of their or others’ love: “the child”.
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