Motherhood:
An elusive dream steeped in reality,
A beautiful past once lived,
A looking glass of what once was,
What is,
And what is yet to come.
Without warning,
We, the mothers,
Are adrift in a sea,
Our anchors, our children gone,
Off to the future,
Riding their own waves.
Without warning,
We are left with memories of that wondrous past;
While our children are creating the future,
Of which we are and are not a part.
Children take what we have to offer;
Like shooting stars,
They soar eagerly toward the unknown,
Masters of their destinies,
Painters of their dreams;
Sculptors of their own histories.
The mirror of their
childhood:
A shadow of what once was.
Once I was that child.
Now I am that mother.
Me, Robert College, 1966, BA. Vittoria, University of San Francisco, 2000, BA