To my favorite adult children,
I have a confession to make.
I had a coffee date yesterday and, frankly, my Mother’s Day card felt a little lumpy. Thank you, my darlings. Thank you for knowing me so well.
When I married your dad/father-in-law it looked a little bit like this:
Or probably, more accurately, a little bit like this:
Thank you, Jeremy and Shelby, for putting up with me while I grew up. You are not my birth children, but I couldn’t love you more if you were. You bring joy to me and our house. You are outstanding siblings to each other and to The Brothers. I brag about you all the time. Ask anyone.
If I had anything (and it is doubtful) to do with you becoming the fine, upstanding, gainfully employed, not-on-your-Dad’s-insurance adults that you are, I’ve done all right.
We are looking forward to getting to know Eric better! And Rachel . . . We didn’t choose you. You chose us, bless your heart. We’re just going to suck you in and make you forget you were never part of this craziness. We are so delighted you are walking beside Jeremy and making your own way with your own new family.
We may not be all together in one place as often any more, but that’s okay. Good ol’ Charles Dickens wrote, “The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.” Certainly that is true of us.