Mother Never

[ID: A mother holds her newborn baby. The baby is pulling at her hair, and they are looking at each other.] Source: Zach Lucero via unsplash.com

I do not know my always. But I know my nevers.

For you, my darling, I will move mountains. Please know that when my fingers are calloused I will blame the mountain, not you. Never you.

For you, I will work those calloused fingers to the bone. I may not always find the answer. But I promise I will be dismayed by the question, not by you. Never you.

For your broken heart, I will tear apart my own. It will be frayed, my dear, but it was like that before, not because of you. Never you.

For you, I’ll weather every element of the season’s as they change. Because of this, I will not always be sunshine. But I will never be lightning. Not to you. Never you.

For you, I will not always choose the quickest route. I will judge my choice harshly. But I will not do that to you. Never you.

The day I left, my mother taught me her first and only lesson. She said, “One day, you’ll be a mother. And then you’ll know.”

And now I do.

I do not know my always. Of those, I cannot be sure. But I know my nevers.

And so, for you, I will be Mother Never.

One day, you’ll understand.