RV Station

To mothers

The one who was up eight times last night
The one with an eye on the laptop and another on the kids
The one whose nipples are cracked and swollen yet she feeds
The one who carefully assembles each bottle of milk for her precious one
The one who wakes up at four so the children leave home on time
The one who does not get to bed until the kids have come back home safe
The one who sets play time and sits down for homework
The one who rushes back, who kisses every boo boo
The one who celebrates victories and joins in on heartbreak
The one who waits for calls from the kids on weekends
The one who cooks their favourites still, even when the kids have kids
The one who grieves the child she bore

Every mother I know (and every mother I don’t)
Is a magical being
Runs clocks in her head
Runs schedules like she’s paid
Whether ready or unprepared
Saves the day or tries undeterred
Believes she’ll only sleep eight consecutive hours once she is dead
But leaves no stone unturned
So the kids smile instead

But the new thing I know
Now that I am a mom
That magic isn’t channeled from some faraway fairy land
But conjured after sweeping pieces of a heart
That may be tired, sad, broken, or disappointed
Lonely, anxious, or close to breaking down
But never out of love
And hence
Never out of magic