Are You my Mother?

The phone rang a few minutes ago, and a young man began to read Dr. Seuss' "Are You my Mother".  I allowed him to read the entire book, listening as the voice seemed to magically become younger, and the visual in my mind was a little boy with a mass of tumbled dark curls and beautiful brown eyes.  I could feel my heart swell in my chest, my throat tightening, tears stinging my cheeks.  My voiced quivered when I answered his final question "are you my mother?", my response "yes Christopher, I am your mother".

Even now, after completing our conversation and moving on, my chest feels full, as if my love for this child and his brother will burst from me.  It isn't that I have forgotten how much they can frustrate me, or the many tears I've cried over their mistakes.  All of those memories and feelings remain, yet they become trivial in comparison to the overwhelming love and pride I feel for them.

Tomorrow will come and go, Tim will take me out to brunch, he'll barbecue and even do the dishes. I will think about my own mother, and wish that she could have lived long enough to see my boys.  There will be a melancholy feeling that both boys couldn't be with me..  My heart will remain full, knowing how much I love Chris and Tim. Knowing that when all is said and done, my greatest blessing and accomplishment will have been the two of them.

So, as I head out to brunch in the morning with a young man who stands almost a foot taller then me, who's voice is deep and resounding, and who actually puts his hand out at the corner to keep me from blindly stepping in the street, in my mind's eye, this is the boy I will see: