People say we only have 18 summers,
like I’m counting down to the longest winter.
Like the sun won’t always set in your eyes, bringing summer to me forever.
People say ‘blink and you’ll miss it’.
But it’s when I blink, that the images of yesterday dance across my mind. Sometimes I close my eyes a little longer to remember, I didn’t miss a thing.
People say you lose yourself in motherhood, but you had me all along.
You took a lot out of me but gave me so much more. You were the only search party I needed.
People talk of how the seasons pass. But I take them with me, each one no matter how beautiful, no matter how hard are part of our growth.
People say ‘enjoy every minute’, and sometimes I don’t. But I enjoy you.
I enjoy being your mum.
You could have been anyone, I’m so thankful you’re you.
People talk of ‘back in my day’, of ‘we did this and you turned out ok’. There’s so much old advice, there’s so much new. They lay it on thick like concrete over roots.
People talk of sleep, but we don’t measure your worth by the hours your eyes are closed. And while we’ve been cracked open, it was to bring you in, to hold you a little longer.
And they talk of 18 summers.
As if the first ripple of your life won’t always be the waves in mine.
Bringing summer to me, forever.