This morning I got lilacs and coffee in bed.
In short, this is motherhood.
LILACS?! OH! MY FAVORITE! THANK YOU! Their smell is the very security and attachment of my own childhood. Yes, that is the bud, and it will become a flower. If we leave it on the bush.
Three minutes later, watching a children’s video on the parts of a flower.
Oh, you’re disastrously allergic? Oh well. Here marks the end of my childhood. No problem! I’m cutting our tree down anyway. It’s too close to the house.
Do not mistake this for martyrdom. And do not think it is always easy to flip the “can’t have it any more” switch (See: sleep, five minutes of quiet, peeing alone). But on my fifth Mother’s Day, it’s now easier to see when I lose something, but I still have enough. And when I do not. And that it isn’t “can’t have it any more,” but “can’t have it any more right now.” Some Mother’s Day The Child won’t come out of his room until noon, and I can go smell some neighbors’ lilacs. Some day he’ll move out, and I can plant a new bush outside our window.
Right now, my cup is full. It is enough.