I had asked them to try to sit still for a moment earlier that afternoon while I explained that sometimes mothering is hard, but I could never imagine mothering anyone but them—that I could never imagine a greater love than the one we share. We held each other, then laughed at how them they were, jumping around, being silly. How me I was, trying to be serious with them. All of us knowing already how much we love each other.
But this is how my Mother’s Day ended, because this is how Mother’s Day ends in America:
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