Honoring Mother’s Day
For the moms who admired our macaroni crafts, bandaged small injuries, brought us soup when we were sick, listened to our first squeaky musical endeavors, and hung our crayon drawings on the fridge.
For the moms who let us believe in Santa, who made us superhero capes, and who stopped us from trying to fly off of the roof. (For the moms who took us to the ER when we managed to jump out of the tree, anyway.)
For the moms who prepared thousands of meals, drove us to practice, cheered at a hundred childish games of baseball and soccer, and stayed up half the night helping to pull together that last-minute diorama or baking soda volcano.
For the moms with scars (literal and metaphorical). For the moms who made mistakes but kept on going, anyway. For the moms who still loved us when we made mistakes. For the moms who couldn’t be there for us as long as they wanted to be.
For the moms who made us eat our vegetables. For the moms who eventually shared their famous secret recipe for cookies/tortillas/samosas/latkes/noodle soup. For the moms who could burn boiled water.
For the moms who straightened our ties and embarrassed us in front of first dates. For the moms who taught us to be strong and hugged us when we cried. For the moms we would defend in schoolyard scuffles and on the front line.
And for all of the women who stepped up, especially when our biological mothers couldn’t—to the grandmas and aunties, adopted moms, stepmoms, bossy older sisters, inspiring teachers, and generous mentors—the women who made us the men that we are today.