They are Mine and I Love Them

It's been a wonderful sabbath, and after attending our church meetings, the second part of the day has for me been a time of remembering. So many families at church have babies and younger children, and it sometimes makes me miss the little sweeties I once had, who are now grown and need me, in different ways, but less than before. The look of them, the smell of them, the sound of them, the clutter of them... their hugs, their smiles, their everything. Steph has always been my sweet angel. David and I had this thing we did since he was a very young boy: I would say to him, "my boy," and he would reply, "my mom." I loved that. He has forgotten it, but still when he leaves the house on his many jaunts with his many friends, he tells me he loves me, which always brings a sweet tear to my eye. And my daughter, my Stephanie, who is now twenty-one whole years old, always ends our many phone conversations with, "I love you, Mommy." Oh, how they are in my heart. They are my heart. Rich, my love, my best friend and my eternal companion, we have two wonderful children. How blessed we are.

This photo was taken several years ago, and oh, how they have grown since then... but still they are mine and I love them.

"Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that supposed to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing." —Toni Morrison, Beloved