Full of Love

The best gift to mothers and to ourselves.

Sometimes the simplest gift is the best gift.

My younger daughter came home from school and said that she had a surprise for me in her backpack. I was hoping it was chocolate. When I asked if it was a treat, she nodded her head in affirmation. But she didn’t pull out a chocolate bar or a brownie. She pulled out two flowers. Short stems with big, delicate blooms. As much as I love chocolate, I was not disappointed; I was amazed. We hugged. She knew I would love the flowers. I knew they needed to be in the vase that she painted with rainbow stripes.

I admire the orange tulip and yellow daffodil every morning when I sit down to write. It took three days for the tulip to open and on the morning full of sunshine the petals opened wide. One petal is flopped over out of line the way a dog’s ear sometimes folds over backwards. I have the urge to tap it back into place, but I am afraid that the petals might then drop off. One by one.

I get attached to things. Flowers, trees, belongings, people. I see this same attachment in my younger daughter. I had regarded that part of her personality as a troublesome trait because she is so attached to belongings that her room is a mess. But behind that attachment is love. She is full of love and I certainly don’t want her to lose that quality.

As we approach Mother’s Day and exchange cards and gifts for the mothers and nurturers in our lives, let us remember that the best gift to give to others, and to ourselves, is love. We can never have too much love.

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