All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother - Abraham Lincoln
This one's for you, Mom, with all of my love and gratitude on Mother's Day and every day (whether I act like it or not)!
She stands in the center of the busy plaza, a happy statue. Others mill about, speaking in tongues I can only appreciate, but never understand. The birds, tame for centuries, flock to the places where people have been, pecking up their careless leavings.
She smiles. Delight and wonder flood her face. The birds, sensing her calm, draw closer. They crowd her, cooing. She laughs. There’s so many of them! she exclaims. I stand behind this mother-shield, holding my childish breath.
But I’m the fearless one, I think, shrinking back from the unpredictable mess of life teeming in this abundant place.
After you read this, read it again, keeping in mind that I was not a child when this happened, but 38 years old, on a trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico. Although, I suppose we are always our mother's children, no matter how old we get (and for the record, I do like birds on a one-to-one basis, but large groups of them make me think of this or this - yep, you're welcome)!