Gifted on My Girl's Day

Last night I walked up the steps to my apartment building, went in, and on cue, checked the mail. I pulled out, first a catalogue, then a few bills, and then I saw an envelope containing a card and for that quick second, I thought the handwriting was my mother's. And just as soon, I realized it could not be hers since she's now two years, flown.

The card was from my cousin, Sheri, and I carried it upstairs, and after setting my things down, washing my hands, and turning on a few lights, I took the envelope and opened it. It was a postcard with 'N Sync smiling at me saying, "Thanks." I had to grin as the postcard was now vintage 90s.

My cousin was thanking me for being there for her. Nice, I thought, and then I reached the last of her message where she stated, "Here is a photo I ran across of your mother, I thought you might like."

Hurriedly I reached deeper into the envelope and took out a small photograph of my mother at what must have been her at seven years, nine at the most. I gasped as I had never seen a picture of her that young. I sat down and cried. I will not show it to anyone, not until my book about my mother and me is complete for I know this is my answer for help in focusing and knowing how to write this.

I am so thankful. I fell asleep with mascara-streaked hands, but I fell asleep with a vision, and a hope. And it happened on my baby's birthday. I felt the power of love coming down on me. I felt faith taking hold of my fear and quieting everything around me. I felt the magnificence of support.

Oh mother, I see you.

I do.