A tribute to my Moms – Eleanor and Betty.

Mothers do little things, day after day after day.
Often no one sees or notices or understands why,
until the children themselves plunge into parenthood
and start doing those little things,
like Mom did.

If you could pile those little things…
the mound would soar up to the sky,
Mount Everest would look so small;
you could climb to the moon.

If you could see those little things…
it would be like a starry night spread above a northern lake,
sparkling, breath-taking, immense, soul-searching.

If you could hear those little things…
the melodies would weave, swelling, cascading
from lullabies to trilling playful harmonies,
from soothing tunes to inspiring verse,
the music anticipating what you need,
before you even realize the need is there.

If you could touch those little things…
the comfort would absorb into your being and lighten your load;
the warmth and power would tickle at your fingertips,
and thrill your very soul.

If you could taste those little things…
your eyes would close, your taste buds tingle,
a smile would grow across your face with amazement.

If you could feel those little things…
like layer upon layer upon layer of armour
softly and deftly fitted to you, around you,
trying to prepare you, shield you from life’s hurts and disappointments;
you would know the depth and breadth, stamina and strength of a Mother’s love.