Mommy, thank you for teaching me how to love by loving me. Here is a poem for you that doesn’t even begin to describe how grateful I am that you, dreamer, nurturer, listener, seer, helper, encourager, are my mommy.
She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Your biceps built from tending
Babies could out-last Captain America.
The crows-feet around your hazel eyes
Gather when Miah calls you “Gran-Merry.”
Burn scars on your forearms
Show how many times you made Buddy cinnamon rolls.
Your waist length, curly grey hair
Tickles my nose with every good night hug.
Stirring potato soup,
You ladle out love.
Pouring me a cup of Maxwell House,
You know I like two sugars.
Reading library books aloud,
You taught me to stay awake.
The work truck sounds like a hit-and-miss engine,
But you showed me how to drive a straight-shift.
I can taste Ivory soap when I smell it,
But my words come out slower.
My strong will, stubborn tongue frustrated you,
But you never called the game
And threw your hands up like a referee.