{What follows is a mushy-gushy, braggy mess, I make no apologies}

I thought that a few years ago, when the girls rented a car and drove the 200+ miles from New York City with a car full of excellent Indian take-out (you may be surprised, but quite a rarity in Charlotte) and we turned the sun porch into an ad hoc Derby Hat making studio — well, I thought ‘no Mother’s Day gift can beat that’. Recognizing their inventiveness and generosity, I think this year has that beat.

My kids. My wonderful, funny, smart, capable, surprising kids — aren’t kids at all anymore. Our oldest, our darling Phish will be 29 this year. She’s two years older than I was when I had her. But parents will understand, they are still kids to me, at least in some ways. But the good stuff? The really good stuff? That comes with the realization that you not only created a family but also created adults who are friends, individuals, and members of the next generation.

They exist now in that shadowy half-light of adulthood, still the children who built blanket forts, wallowed in mud puddles and carried baby birds in their pockets, but also... so grown-up. So competent, yes, but much more, such contributors. One foot still planted in childhood, but the other stretching forward into what lays beyond. It is so wonderful to witness.

And I am always, ALWAYS surprised, astounded, gobsmacked by their level of discourse.

Having them at my college graduation was of course — huge, momentous, purely wonderful. On the long road to my degree, there were times when I thought of quitting (College Mathematics 102, I’m talkin’ to you) but the message it would send to them kept me going. Knowing they were there to share my accomplishment, up in the bleachers*— was magic. But oh, what followed... having them at arm’s length for 6 whole days, when I could (at any time!) touch their hair, sit back and just listen as they talked animatedly about... (I’m never sure what), hold their hand, kiss a cheek. Just them and me. It was heady, it was intoxicating, and it wholly filled me with a profound and quiet satisfaction.