Happy Mother's Day

Jacaranda Trees in Bloom at Grand Park, Los Angeles

I rode the train into downtown L.A. today.
Time travel.
There I was at the Oxnard train station, walking along the platform where two years ago, I would have met Dan as he stepped off the train, coming to see me for the weekend.  
Time travel.
There I was with a ticket marked "senior fare." As if I'd been asleep and awakened to find myself a senior citizen (by Amtrak standards anyway.)
Time travel.
I swear this park didn't exist the last time I was downtown, its wide swath of trees and fountains leading directly to the Music Center.
Time Travel.
It's Mother's Day. Last year I had a mother to celebrate with. This year I do not.
You go along and you go along, and then all of a sudden you are without the people you can't imagine being without. You yourself are old enough to get the senior discount, and a technicolor park emerges from the gray cityscape of the City of Angels.
There's nothing to be done but weep and celebrate, drink champagne, eat escargot and mussels with  the beautiful young woman who was once a baby in your arms and take the train back home.

Happy Mother's Day

The day my daughters met their brother (click on this caption for some thoughts on being a birthmother)

I love my children with a full and open heart. They never stop surprising me. Spending time with any/all of them is pure joy.

And, at the age of 62, I still have my own mother. She's waking up as I type this, and I've just performed the two most essential morning tasks related to her caregiving: pushed the button on the coffee pot and jacked the heat up to 75.

And how can one celebrate Mother's Day without touching on the joy of being a grandmother?

They're A LOT older now--but just as adorable.

I wish you flowers, candy, cake, brunch while wearing fancy outfit if that's what you like. I wish you time with your family, breakfast in bed,  peace and quiet, a nap on the couch, wine and revelry until midnight--whatever works for you. Have fun. Love the love.