I reflect today on my life as a mom, of resilience, constantly protecting, scanning, waiting.
Lilting along a twisting and turning path, sometimes I am not sure the direction of the wind.
The structure crumbles.
The youngest of my children has soared off to unknown and fantastic adventures in far away lands. Her delicate wings take her on a journey - more than one of physical travel, looking for answers that lie outside the safe and comfortable nest of the place she calls home.
The eldest has wide strong wings now, making his home in the in the mountains. Armed with a crockpot and an old cookbook, he calls me occasionally for culinary advice:
How do you make a roux?
Can I roast green chiles in the oven?
Can you send me your recipe for potato leek soup?
The middle child has flown away, yet perches closer to home.
He gets into trouble, touching the hot fire too freely.
His once clipped wings strengthen and gain balance through creating vessels with clay and fiery faces in mud.
My home is littered with transient puppies and a man who disappears often.
A telephone call from the middle one reminds me of the purpose of my nest. Saying things are okay, Mom.
I wait for my next step to reveal itself through the emptiness.