What creeps in on little cat feet? Is it fog? Mr Sandburg, do you know?
Yeah, well, fog.
I had thought it might be love. But no, it's fog.
So, perhaps I should find another quote to adequately describe the impact this particular day has on me.
Um, how about this one?
The love of husbands and wives may waver; brothers and sisters may become deep-rooted enemies; but a mother's love is so strong and unyielding that it usually endures all circumstances: good fortune and misfortune, prosperity and privation, honor and disgrace. A mother's love perceives no impossibilities.
Yes, that one is true.
Also, this one:
Becoming a mother makes you the mother of all children. From now on each wounded, abandoned, frightened child is yours. You live in the suffering mothers of every race and creed and weep with them. You long to comfort all who are desolate.
- Charlotte Gray
And, this one, especially today:
My mother groaned! my father wept.
Into the Dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud;
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
- William Blake
Eleven years and one day ago I was waiting for the overdue arrival of a piping fiend of my own.
Eleven years and 90 minutes ago I held him for the first time, and something in my heart broke open. I think it was the door to motherhood, and all that that word contains.
As that boy has grown, so has my affection for him and my amazement at who he is.
Eleven years of being a mother to the blond-headed blue-eyed freckled boy who is Thing 1, a long drink of water who loves speed, Nintendo, the trombone, his brother, his father, his dogs, and me.
Eleven years of having that door break open over and over again, never on the same place twice.
Happy birthday, Bean, we sure do love you.