Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

If you were here, I would tell you about the craft activities I set up each day for the kids in our Summer Food Program. How any combination of construction paper, markers, and glue occupies kids. How paint - and the inevitable ensuing mess - makes them even happier. What craft ideas would you have for me? That boundless kid wisdom would have helped me. Did you know you had an amazing spring of creativity? For adults and kids, it was alluring. Why can't we swap ideas anymore.

I just discovered kids, and their absolute honesty. Their funny answers. Their bursts of energy. Tthe quiet "yes" of shy delight. The frustration, and the exhaustion, and the fresh fun.

Right now I'm stressed out. I'm getting over a cold. I want to complain to you about my long daily commute. I miss your voice, sending me a message from your never-never-land of relaxation to "take it easy, Zoe! You're doing a lot and need to take care of yourSELF!" I would probably still nod and distractedly say "yeah...". Thanks Mom; it sure is easy to take of yourself when you're not working 40 hours a week and commuting 10 more. So many of my calls were just an obligation, but now I wish I could hear you again. I love you.

I've heard you were endlessly proud of us, and now I just want to share what I'm doing with you. I want to share my life with you to feel your pride, and make you happy. I want to encourage your own dreams, really this time, instead of listening to my experiences. I know you could do it, if you wanted to. I love you.

I have no illusions that if you were still here, I would still be distractedly saying "yeah...", and still rolling my eyes silently when you announce your (13th) grand plan of the year. But I love you so much, and I wish I could share the moments of my life with you that I know you would love.

Love you.