Travels of a mother heart

She walked a long road to get here, from basketball court and university track, through wolf-infested north cattle country, into hog shed and school bus driver’s seat, finally to a 900-foot bunk house. Here, her hands made house into home, cultivating garden and field, punching and caressing dough. Here, her womb swelled three times, with kicking, squirmy, thumb-sucking daughters. And she carried us gently.

Her first girl journeyed far too. She too, was 25 when he found her. And twice, her tummy has ballooned, two giggly, soprano daughters of her own. And she holds them just like she was held.

And we love better and feel deeper and fight braver and reach further because we stand on Dad’s wide shoulders, steadied by Mum’s long arms.

She embraced the mantle of motherhood, adding substance and weight, strength and beauty, with her life. And now, we pick it up with joy. It is heavy. And it is beautiful.

She plays with us, and encourages us to be imaginative; and we play with others.

She shows us how to work, and we learn to labour in things that matter.

She nourishes us, and we feed others.

She loves loyal and fierce, and we learn to love and hope better.

She lives, and teaches our hearts to live.

And this is the angst, and joy, of motherhood.