Hi mama,

It doesn’t have to be Mother’s Day
For me to come up and say
That I love you (it's not just in May!)
Endlessly forgiving: your mother’s heart

Warm and caring in every way
Those without kids could never
Truly understand – including me
And even though you passed fifty,

Your patience with me is boundless
At times seems everlasting
Even though you passed fifty,
Your beauty and grace still blossoms!

Though you passed fifty,
You remain ever so young and full of spirit
Thank you for being my mother, mom
And thank you for letting me be your son, too.

Thank you for believing in me
As I believe in you.

My mother is stronger everyday
Or maybe she's always been
This way
And I'm just now paying attention.

Maybe I'm just now seeing her daily struggles
Understanding her pain
Past and present.

Just now noticing how having a baby
At 16
Changes you forever
Never knowing who she could have been.

Always knowing I ruined chances at her dreams
Not that she would ever say that
But I did.

Every day passing seeing her more tired than yesterday
Working constantly since I can remember
Always being the supporter.

Just now wondering if she ever wonders who will support her
Or how we will function
Without her.

We won't.
It took me 20 years to appreciate my mother
And I'll never take her for granted again.

The culmination of the battle,
Between salty and sour,
Peppered to perfection.
The sweetness of caramelized onions,
The tickling aroma of browned garlic,
In a beautiful confetti of scallions.
Warm and tender meat,
Drenched in an otherworldy sauce,
Bursting with umami and flavor.
A product of love and spices,
Filling both our bellies and hearts,
It never fails to remind me of home.
But mom, you see,
In all these years, I've come to know,
Of all your versions of Adobo,
The best ones are made,
When you share it with me.

They carried us
Through gestation,
Or took us in
Without hesitation.
Our coming
Was a celebration,
Mothers are our affirmation.
They deliver.

When we're quiet
From travails,
She makes time
For school-yard tales.
The warmth of sunshine
Shyly pales
To her prevailing arms.

She feared for us
Til eyes dried out;
Stayed home alone
When we left her house,
Waiting by the door.
A balm and living cure.

When Moms do well
All can tell
The Madonna-like connection.
No need to forgive,
We'll always grieve,
They've loved us
Since conception.