Thursday, May 9, 2019

A Bittersweet Mother's Day Poem

When you reach for my hand,
I pull it away.

I shrug my shoulders,
when you ask about my day. 

I refuse your hugs
when my friends might see,

and I won’t let you walk
too close to me.

But no matter where I am,
or how tall I grow,
I will always love you—

Even though
I don’t let it show.

-Linda Kulp Trout

I hadn't planned to post anything today, but something has been on my mind.  A couple of weeks ago, while crossing a parking lot, I reached for my seven year old grandson's hand.  For the first time, he pushed my hand away.  A clear sign he's becoming more independent.

It brought back memories of my own sons.  I still remember standing outside my son's first grade classroom.  I reached to hug him, and he pulled away. I tried to hide the sting in my heart as he walked through the door.

Watching my sons grow up was bittersweet. I was proud of their independence, and yet, it was so hard to let them go. My sons are grown, and although I miss my little boys, I love the men they have become.  And I've come to realize that they have never really let go. They just hold on in a different way now.

My grandchildren are becoming more and more independent. I know how hard this is for my daughter-in-law so this poem is for her.

Be sure to visit Liz at Elizabeth Steinglass for this week's Roundup.