Mothers

To think that I became a mother at age thirty-two.

To think that my mother raised three children on her own.

To think that the mother of my mother married when she was sixteen.

To think that the mother of my grandmother had three husbands in her life.

To think that I secretly always wanted to be a mother, but never thought it would happen.

To think that my mother survived cancer close to the age I am now.

To think that the mother of my mother only spoke Greek when she started school.

To think that the mother of my grandmother lost her first husband by death.

To think that I find being a mother is one of the most gratifying and terrifying experiences in life.

To think that my mother worked all day and still came home and cooked dinner for us.

To think that the mother of my mother didn’t survive cancer when I was five years old.

To think that the mother of my grandmother never chose her husbands, her brothers chose for her.

To think that I don’t have a daughter who will become a mother, because I have an amazing son.

To think that my mother has three children, three grandchildren and one great grandchild.

To think that the mother of my mother was an amazing cook and at one time had a hair salon in her house.

To thin that the mother of my grandmother lived a life that is still part mystery to me.

Generation by generation,

I honor the mothers in my ancestral line,

who lived through times of hardship and joy

and passed down their quiet strength.

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