For My Daughter’s, on Mama’s day…When I’m old

I hoped that I wouldn’t get older.

You’ve always said that to you, I would be forever 32.

I hoped that my hands would always be strong and that my knuckles wouldn’t hint at overwork and that my skin would be sleek and unspotted.

But there have been too many years of digging in the dirt and my hands bronzing in the sun for that.

I wanted my legs to always carry me with strength, so that I could continue to lead on our walks in the woods, with the two of you following me like ducklings, your happy chatter behind me, spurring me on, giving my heart flight. But a few times now, I have followed you, lost in my memories of your childhood as you walked ahead of me and called me to hurry up the hill.

I’ve always had issues with those damn hills.

I’ve been the one to hand out advice and stories, to cook something that made you smile, like apple pancakes or cabbage rolls, or chicken soup.

Now I look forward to a Mexican concoction that you eat hot and I eat mild, and that speaks of your world travels.

please read on here: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/05/to-my-daughters-on-mamas-day-when-im-old/

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