Mom, I see what you did there

Trying to define the undefinable — my mother’s love.

Mom at 90 but still fooling around with part of a pulp tray from Starbucks

I’ve been spoiled by my mom.

Who only knows how to give.

Who only lives

by sacrifices,

forbearance,

and a silent knowing.

She never seems to run out of giving.

Never asks. But I know, only hopes

to be filled by my

achievements,

understanding,

and my happiness.

Back and forth, all her life

These emotions run

between herself and all her children.

An energy is built:

LOVE

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