Tag: Mother's Day

Poem

For My Daughters-In-Law On Mother’s Day

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Daughters-in-law are our grandchildren’s mothers.
As such, they carry our fortunes downstream.
Under their guidance, our hopes become others’,
Giving their force to a much larger dream.
How lucky we are to have you for the carer
That nurtures the hearts of our hearts, that they may
Each be a lover, a giver and sharer,
Remaking the world in their image each day.
So do we all, like streams from the mountains,
In time become joined in the souls we have made,
Now mingled forever, eternal companions,
Linked by our love in a bond that won’t fade.
As you in your noontime your work of love do,
We watch from the hillside, grateful for you.


NAR©2024


This is “My Wish For You” by Rascal Flatts

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WORDPRESS MOMS

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Whether you have children, want children or lost children – you are moms.

Whether you are an aunt, a godmother, a stepmother, a foster mother – you are moms.

Whether you are a dorm mother, a den mother, a Mother Superior – you are moms.

Whether you have pets, want pets or lost pets – you are moms.

Teachers, nurses, caregivers, doctors.

This is absolute: you can be moms without having given birth.

You are WordPress Moms. You are my friends.

Happy Mother’s Day!

NAR © 2023

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/05/13/weekend-writing-prompt-311-absolute/
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UNTIL THE WELL RUNS DRY

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

According to today’s standards and statistics, my mother had what is now referred to as a “borderline geriatric pregnancy”; she was 34 years old when I was born. Thirty-four! That’s not even half my current age! Oh, to be 34 again.

I wish I knew my mom when she was still young, sexy, vivacious and carefree with a glowing tan and a radiant smile – just as she was in that photo.

Yes, how I wish I knew her then. That woman is not the mother I remember. Life changed her.

By the time I came along mom had been through hell, caring for her own sick mother, losing her precious golden-haired two-year-old baby boy to nephritis and watching her husband march off to fight a war. As bad as that was, it was just the beginning of my mother’s difficult life. To say she suffered many hardships would be an understatement.

Yet, through it all, she never stopped doing, caring, giving. Only when she became old and tired, her thoughts wandering and her memory failing, did she rest.

That’s what women do. That’s what mothers do. They give until the well runs dry.

There are many things in my heart I long to say to my mother. Later tonight when all is quiet I’ll share my thoughts with her but for now all I want to do is wish her Happy Mother’s Day.

My mother. Concetta DiStefano Schembre, 1917-2009. Rest peacefully, Mom.

NAR © 2022