Mother's Day is always a bittersweet day for me. I love celebrating with Ben - he'll be here in about an hour and he's going to hit some tennis balls with me - and I miss Paul so much more on this day. I don't miss Mother's Day with my mom -- it was always difficult and not enough with her. I wrote ths poem the first Mother's Day after she died.
This Mother’s Day I don’t have to give
my mother the perfect not too flowery or gushy card.
For no matter what it would say
she doubted my love
unless I wrote, “Dearest Mom”
across the top. This Mother’s Day
I don’t have to comb the stores for
the perfect gift – hand lotion, a gold charm,
a silk scarf, a sweater. For whatever I bought,
she always said she didn’t need it
and could I change it for something else.
When she died so many of those gifts
came back to me. And I cherish them
because they were hers.