Noah came home from school today cradling a decorated paper bag and pretty much bursting with excitement. He hinted that the object in the bag was “sort of alive but not a furry pet” and said it would “need water on Sunday morning.” His smile, the fact that he literally could not wait until Sunday for me to open it, how he insisted I peek right away and rocked side-to-side beaming as I exclaimed over my new flower, the way he proudly carried that pot into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and placed it up on the window sill – this is why I love Mother’s Day, whatever day it happens to fall on.
For all the mamas, I hope your day is as sweet as a leftover foil-wrapped Easter egg gifted in the palm of an outstretched hand, a plate of chocolate chip cookies as breakfast in bed, a peanut-buttery kiss on the cheek. I wish you the best kind of gifts on the planet: a crayoned picture of stick figures with their mouths attached to their eyes, a hug, a handful of dandelions, a carefully scripted acrostic poem…or perhaps, a petunia in an “I love you” pot that will tug on your heartstrings forever.
