beauty in the midst...

She showed up in the middle of my day. 
I knew she was coming, and I was watching for her... but it did not stop my heart from leaping at the sight of her. And then I was in her arms... and all was right with the world. Even though it really wasn't.

With hardly a word, love spun around... from daughter to mother, mother to daughter, and back 'round again. I may be forty, but her arms are still a healing place. Heart scraped raw, eyes rimmed red... and her kiss can make it better. Not all better... but enough. We chat, we laugh, we share a few tears... and the day grows brighter.

I want to remember this... and I tuck away the hope that someday, beyond skinned knees and the it's not fairs, that my kiss or my words will still hold the wonder for my own children.

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother. 
-Abraham Lincoln