I tell you in a dozen ways a week to love your mother. It’s a most salient measure for how you’ll love many people. As an observer, it enlivens me when I see you running to her, grabbing her, talking to her, seeking her out. Not always to be sure because sometimes you can be motivated by obvious errors. But mostly watching your love for her unfold is a treat.
Your mother will love you for as long as she possibly can, another way of saying all her days. And even when those days close to another less manageable time, her love will extend beyond time. She’ll keep your treasures whether she tells you or not. She’ll have little creations from your hands and from those of others that are about you, and she’ll pull them out at night and remember. Your mother will protest every injustice against you and be a fierce advocate always. She will overlook your faults until they even become her own. She will love, and we will all become her students, learning as she does.