When I think back on my mother
My heart begins to churn
With a complex and volatile mixture
Of memories and emotions.
Maybe because she was a complex and flawed human being.
Or because I am.
I yearn for a child's simple
Hand drawn joy -
Appreciation without judgement.

I remember that feeling
Or more precisely
I remember remembering it.
It is always set in the spring,
The sun is shining and the tree outside my window
Is becoming greener by the day.
I run down the hallway
Excited to feel her embrace.
Excited to look into her eyes.
Excited to be loved.

On this day set aside to celebrate
Our mothers
I try to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can -
Like a child holding his breath under the water in the bath,
Counting the seconds
Unaware of everything else in the world.