Special
To My Mothers, With Love
The
Moms We Love
To My Mothers,
With Love
by Cindy Marcelle
I cry a little on Mother’s Day.
And on my birthday. And some more on Christmas.
But I cry the most on Mother’s Day.
This isn’t because my mother has disappeared off the face of the earth and I don’t know when I’m going to see her again; she’s just a phone call away. It’s because my mother has disappeared off the face of the earth and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see her again.
When I was born, my mother couldn’t keep me; she was just way too young, and the stars just weren’t shining down on her. But she did the best thing she could for me: she gave me into the arms of a mother who has always been there, loving me and supporting me, all of my life.
I’ve got two other adopted brothers, both of them with special needs. My mom dedicated her life to taking care of kids that needed the extra love and attention their birth parents just couldn’t give them. I have never in my life seen anyone who bore a family resemblance to myself, but those two boys are more family than I think I could ever have. They are my brothers.
One of them can’t walk or talk; he has a hard time keeping his head up by himself. But he loves Barney, and when there are girls in the room, he knows how to get their attention. The other one needs a walker and can’t feel his legs. But he loves trains, and can now read better then I thought he ever could.
This is my mother’s full-time job. Her life is dedicated to giving us what we wouldn’t have been able to have otherwise. She is a beautiful woman, and this day is hers more then ever. Her womb sits vacant and always has, but her heart is so full sometimes I think it will burst.
And to the woman who carried me and gave me all I have: I’ve never seen your face, I don’t know if I ever will, but on this day know that I cry a little thinking about you. I love you and I’ve never met you. I love you and I don’t know your name.