I am the kind of mother who touched her children every night and prayed to god in heaven to make them smarter, braver, stronger, and better than the way they were the day before.
I asked that they be kind and direct and courteous and love their parents.
I asked to make them better at what they love and put music in their hearts in the morning.
I prayed to make me a better mother, but if only one prayer can be answered, I wanted god to care for them.
I am the kind of mother that wept when they failed.
I shook when they are on stage and I gasped when the spaces of breath are too long.
I am the kind of mother who waited patiently for them to figure out the math.
I am the kind of mother who said wipe it up, I’ll make more. It doesn’t matter. Breathe.
I am the kind of mother who explained boys don’t get it as fast as girls and that the pamphlet forgot to say ask permission to touch anyone under any circumstances.
I am the kind of mother who said you can save yourself for marriage. It is always an option.
I am the kind of mother who said you will need your brother one day don’t talk to him like that.
I am the kind of mother who cries secretly, fearing their future and praying I did enough.