I was a Mother’s Day baby, born late in my mom’s life. I always shared my birthday with my mother and miss her terribly at Mother’s Day. As you grow older birthdays lose their meaning. Another year and gifts really don’t matter that much at all.
Three of my grandchildren were born very close to my birthday and Mother’s Day. Happiness now is sharing my day with them. My most cherished gifts are not the diamond rings or other frivolous things of my youth but the homemade with love presence from the grandchildren.
This year was even more special when the card I received as a thank you for a gift I had given was handwritten by my granddaughter, with her signature in cursive no less.
The package included assorted artwork, including this piece with a poignant message. I take it to heart.