I am tears in the middle of the night, forgotten lunch boxes, mismatched socks.
I am arbiter, doctor, confidant, chef, secretary, peacekeeper, chauffeur.
I am insider outsider. Alone and never alone.
I am wise and full of doubt. Powerless and the place where the buck stops.
I am wide lap and smoothed hair and dried tears.
I am endurance past imagining, exhaustion beyond sleeping, overwhelm past sanity.
I am paralyzed and powerful.
I am destroyed and made new and made new and made new.
I am love beyond words and time and reason and the stars.
I am hope and fear and laughter and snot and blood and missing sneakers found in the laundry basket.
I am clean up the playroom and eat your vegetables and remember your water bottle and push in your chair.
I am the unlocked door when you run away from home again.
I am buffeted and unwavering, fearless and terrified, measuring short and measuring short and measuring short.
I am Legos and lullabies and late night past your bedtime snuggles.
I am language and rhythm and flow and joy.
I am the found voice, free after years of silence.
I am gatekeeper, guide, and guardian.
I am Twinkle Twinkle and You Are My Sunshine and Zippity Do Dah.
I am everything and nothing at all.
I am poems written on my phone in the dark without my glasses on.
I am open ears, open eyes, open arms.
You are my child, my teacher, my spirituality, my practice, my heart. I am your mother.