Someone's Mother

The First Revolution

My heart is light with love and excitement, but I notice an occasional quiver in my breath. I takes nothing less than 110% of my effort to stay in the present, but still I often fail and find my thoughts far beyond me, romanticizing the beginning and imagining what's yet to come. It feels like witnessing the explosive creation of our Universe and then watching the phenomenon of time and space unfold-- knowing that with the passing of generations, the sky and universe expand and the brilliant stars that were once so close slip further into the distance. 

We stand at a precipice between the flood of the emotional life transformation marked by infancy and the quickly flowing river of time ready to carry us into the season of toddler-hood. Today marks little Luke's first solar return. His first birthday. A celebration of spirit, life, and growth. It also marks my birth day. A deifying wrinkle in time defined by the molting of my maiden identity, cathartic purification, and the admonition that life is fleeting.


Time flies, but we are rightly reminded that though the days feel like years, sooner than later the years feel like days.

A Sunflower in Bloom

It's been a full solar revolution since I birthed and delivered my precious son into the world. His existence reminds me of a beaming Sunflower. Tall, strong, and sturdy roots. His light calls attention wherever he goes and his charisma and zest for life is comparable to that of the Sun's. It was bouquets of Sunflowers that his father often greeted me with when we first started dating. And it was the seed of a Sunflower that he gifted me with to cherish, nourish, and love forever. 

Many times it feels like he has always been here with us, waiting for the moment to sprout and show himself.  It was his beauty, his laughter, his wonder, innocence, and spirit that illuminated the perspective I was ready to see throughout the cold and isolating winter that we experienced after moving to New England when he was just 2.5 months old. It was in our first month here that I spent the nights wandering and circling our bare tiny, one bedroom apartment in the dark, baby in arms (often cradled horizontally across my chest). 

We'd quietly float across the wooden floors, slowly pacing back from the kitchen to the empty living room where the moonlight could shine through the glass sliding doors that led to the balcony. Occasionally, I'd pause at the balcony doors, looking out from the third floor up, and looking up towards the dark silky sky, sprinkled with starlight just waiting for Lucas to fall asleep. 

The Whole World in My Arms

B and W newborn.jpg

It was in one of those moments there, staring out and up, that I had the deeply visceral realization that in my arms, I held more than the person who was my child. Nestled between my breasts was a generation or more of people. A person who, whether he has children or not, will bring about change and touch the lives of many others. 

I both imagined and realized that I held a man in my embrace who would one day spread love, inspire others, create, heal, and connect. If he were to welcome his own children into the world, part of their essence was still resting safely against the warmth of my body. But still it was nothing more than a moment of many of winding down and comforting his active, busily growing body and mind into a slumber. 

Time is relentless and it waits for no one or thing. As much sacrifice that has come from the last year, this tiny human's existence has added to my life in exponential ways.

I Am Someone's Mother

I am Lucas' mother. Nothing has ever been quite as fulfilling. Words could never suffice to articulate my love and gratitude for this chance to know this gift, but my heart continues to stretch to contain this emotion. With all my passion and love for the sky, the stars and the beauty that lies beneath them, I love you. I love you, Lucas. You are my life, my heart, my soul. 

Happy (birth)day to us.