I wasn’t a very practical mother.
I didn’t teach my children how to do their taxes or even how to tie their shoes -unless it was in bunny ears.
I didn’t teach them the proper way to make a bed or how to iron a shirt.
I taught them about the shape of the soul.
How flowers grow from such small beginnings.
How the fluff of a dandelion, with just one breath, can become a fairy dancing.
I taught them to watch how the pink of morning fades slowly into white.
To see the first star of twilight.
How to make a wish come true.
I taught them to notice how a face can change.
How it holds another story behind the story the mouth is telling.
I taught them to watch where a body hides its pain
and how to be kind.
For better or worse my job is done.
My children and their hearts and their stories-
blessing and cursing their mother.
How she sent them -so gentle -out into the world
armed only with delight.