Her first Mother’s day was recognised with a protective hand placed over a gently swelling stomach. A faint trace of a smile on her lips and a softly whispered “Hello little one”,  and in reply unmistakeable movements inside came a response. Reassured that her precious cargo was safe and well, she glanced outside of the window at the blossoming cherry trees. She knew when they would be in full bloom that she would welcome her child into the world. Until then patience……….

  Small chubby hands, sleep flushed cheeks, eyes bright demanding breakfast greeted her on this her first proper Mother’s day. Her son handed to her fresh from his cot by his adoring father, made impatient sounds, insistent and eager. Grabbing and gurgling at the bright paper envelope and crinkly wrapping paper, he made her laugh. Present enough indeed without the material gifts carefully chosen by doting dad and his oblivious son. Admiring the the squiggles that came from the babies hand, guided by his father, she place the card by her bedside to be admired.

  Each Mother’s day was marked by a small body being hurtled at top speed onto the bed. Happy eager hands thrusting a pretty package into her lap desperate for her to open it and seeking her approval of it’s contents. Each time she gathered her precious son to her, smelling the sweetness in his fair tousled hair, marveling at the still gentle curve of his head and neck and smothered his ever changing face with kisses. Each time he squealed with delight and turned his face upwards demanding more affection.

  Each year, a noticeable difference. Gone were the softly rounded cheeks of the baby and toddler, instead more jaw and cheek lines, the merest hint of the man to come. Gone were the chubby grabbing hands and in their place dextrous slender fingers urging her on to open her gifts. Gone were the gurgles and the coos from rosebud lips and instead words of love and laughter came from a wide toothy grinning mouth. Gone too the undecipherable squiggles on the cards and now carefully formed often smudged letters and words conveyed his written love and appreciation of her. Each year she marvelled at the change and always she counted her blessings, taking a mental snapshot to cherish and hold onto in her mind.

  To her every day was Mother’s day. Every time she looked at her son playing, reading, sleeping, eating or laughing at a favourite tv show, she knew how lucky she was. Her pride in him never failed to amaze her and often brought an unexpected tear to her eye. She didn’t need fancy gifts in pretty paper, not even breakfast in bed or beautifully drawn and written handmade cards. No, it was thanks enough to be a part of this childs life. To have the privelige to know him, to watch him learn and grow. To celebrate his acheivements, to comfort him when he was hurt. He gave her a meaning to her life, a reason for being, for loving and living and though it seemed impossible this love just grew and grew. 

  No matter how tall he grew, how much he physically changed he would always be her little boy. And she… Well she would always be his Mother.