This one is for my mom. Most of you are familiar with this E. E. Cummings love poem, but I believe this particular line can speak to many kinds of love.
I don’t live near my mom. My parents are in Atlanta where today I believe they are going on a motorcycle ride in the nice Southern weather. So we can’t spend this Mother’s Day, or many other days, together. But my mom has made me strong, so that I can come to New York and go to work and build a life. I bring her strength and her love with me always.
I talk to my mom just about every day. (I asked my sister once if you need your mom less when you get older. She said no.) She listens to me when I go on and on about some boring thing that I’m now super interested in, or she lets me explain the plot of whatever book I’m reading, and she celebrates with me when things are good, and is sad with me when things are sad.