Gift

You gave to me, even before I was there to receive it. You gave yourself over to me, as you give yourself over to us all, every day. Back then, when there was only the idea of me, I think that must have been when you gave up yourself first, everything that you used to be, to become something other than yourself. The better to give with. There is a type of giving that takes nothing in return, and that keeps nothing for itself.

I stop and I think about this morning, and yesterday, and already there are acts too countless to mention. My life is stacked high with the gifts you gave me. I sleep deeply at night surrounded by them, pieces of you and your life that can never be returned.

And on this one day, when we give something to you - insultingly small, unforgiveably brief - you turn to us with tears in your eyes, and you put your hands together and bring all of us into this moment of your happiness. And I realise that you are still giving, always giving, for the highest giving of all is in knowing how to receive.

Happy Mother's Day.