For now, just let me be. For now, just let me cry.
I wish I were braver, but sometimes I wish this would all just disappear.
A gazillion thank you’s for too-many-to-count loves.
For sunny lemonade stands, and plays in the garage. For hand puppets and new crayons, and learning to value an apron. For dancing with dad, and baking peanut butter cookies. For teaching me how to wrap Christmas presents, and to always hug my sisters. For birthday cake, and letting Anne share the lemon filling. For napkin rings and place-cards and manners. For books and swimming lessons and Elvis Presley movies. For brushing hair and being proud and being worried, and being there I know how to make a bed, iron and be content, because of you. Thank you, mama, for all the details that concern you: the details that are me…that are us.
Mercy, bend and breathe me back to life.