we belong to each other

Forget the rest of it.  Let go of the way it's been and start with the way it is now.  Solid advice.  But this is the month in which I will cease to have minor children.  And I cannot help but see in each of them their four-year old, ten-year old, fifteen-year old faces.  It's true, of course, that if their trajectory continues as it should, they will soon both be legal adults.  Utterly independent.  Entirely separate.  But I witnessed their faces greet this world for the very first time and I know the sweetness of their beginnings.  In some parallel universe, we are all just starting this journey and I've no idea how much I'll love them.  It is laughable now to imagine how little I understood about the power of these two children.  What else am I missing?

Summer at the Harwood in Taos.  A deep-set window.  A tin chandelier.  Judy Chicago quilts hanging on plaster walls.  Ode and homage to the women whose bodies work to continue this human chain.  Small, intricate stitches turn threads into statements, craft into art.  A reminder of this sacred work for which women are built that is all too often ignored or punished.

The right to choose motherhood when and if it's right should not be a privilege.  It should be embedded in our very existence.  Bring along the ones you want.  That's how sweetness is made.  Alas, as we begin this new decade, I believe in the power of all of us to love each other as though we can see each other's four-year old face.