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,


and a silent knowing.

She never seems to run out of giving.

Never asks. But I know, only hopes

to be filled by my



and my happiness.

Back and forth, all her life

These emotions run

between herself and all her children.

An energy is built:


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