Discovery

I remember looking in the mirror when I was very young and wondering what I was.  During those tender years it never occurred to me that I would be anything besides what I was supposed to be, like a kitten, or a seed, I expected to grow up and become a cat, or a flower.  It was simple.

I was curious to see what I was.

It seemed likely that I was a teacher since that was what my dad was, but I was fully prepared to be a doctor, or architect, or almost anything – except a mother.

I never dreamed of being a mother.  For one thing, it never occurred to me that I could be more than one thing.  For another, the mothers I saw appeared to find mothering a burden.

Yet, I found myself drawn into mothering, maybe like the seed finds itself drawn upwards into the light before it blooms.

It wasn’t always easy, but it certainly was not the miserable job I had anticipated.  It was like being an artist with the most precious malleable clay in the world.   It was god-like.  I knew my tiny subjects could be anyone or anything.  My job, if I chose to accept it, was to provide them with an environment in which to do that.

It wasn’t always easy, or fun, but it was infinitely satisfying in millions of ways, both big and small. 

I was a mother.