Dear Harry, Frank, Max, Sam and Louie,
Many years have passed
Since this picture was taken.
My nest is no longer crammed
With smelly sneakers,
Discarded bags of half-eaten chips
And crumpled homework papers
Never turned in.
My little birdies have flown away
Leaving me
With an abundance of time
And a much freer schedule.
I’ve come to some conclusions
About the past and how I’ve lived it.
And I decided that often I was the victim
Of my own expert coping skills
And my own smoldering and eternal optimism.
Sometimes, at your expense.
So now I’m evolving into someone more tempered,
More centered – hopefully, more realistic –
As I try to find my way
Through the wilderness of older age.
I’ve decided to let go of useless suffering
And accept that what I did
And what I didn’t do
Under the guise of mothering
Was all that I could do
And could not do
At the time.
At present, I am trying
To understand
Your individual challenges, struggles and lifestyles
By transcending the confines of my own cage
So that I can aid you in this quest called “living”
As you strive to be the best you can be.
I ask for your patience
When I am blinded by my own perspective
And not tuned in enough to yours.
And I ask that you tell me
Both when I falter
And when I rise to the occasion
On your behalf.
I’m filled with so much gratitude
For the wonderful love
With which you have always bestowed upon me
And by your loyalty, trust, patience and forgiveness.
And I’m trying very hard to get comfortable
With what others are able and willing to give
Rather than being awash with always wanting
“Just a little more. “
It’s a constant struggle
To cultivate the garden,
To be satisfied with the harvest –
Whether it’s meager or abundant –
And to understand
In what way I sabotage
And in what way I nurture.
But I’m sticking with the program
Love,
Mom