For A Five-Year-Old
A snail is climbing up the window-sill
into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see, and I explain
that it would be unkind to leave it there:
it might crawl to the floor; we must take care
that no one squashes it. You understand,
and carry it outside, with careful hand,
to eat a daffodil.
I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
your gentleness is moulded still by words
from me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
from me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
your closest relatives, and who purveyed
the harshest kind of truth to many another.
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.
– by Fleur Adcock
“Sam said to me the other day, ‘I love you like 20 tyrannosauruses on 20 mountaintops’, and this is the exact same way in which I love him.”
– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who is a mother, or has a mother.