Writing My Life

Now and Then

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… maybe Hallmark cards hit the mark sometimes …

I read this remark when perusing a column in a London online paper of sorts:

There would be no Hallmark cards or fancy brunches for her on this day. She claimed that Mother’s Day was a manufactured holiday and that she would only ever accept one gift: flowers plucked from the field and plunked into a jelly jar, along with a homemade card. My sisters and I were happy to oblige. ~ Amy Dickinson

And while I agree in the beauty of simplicity, I have to appreciate my darling husband’s diligence in finding just the right card, and yes, it’s often a Hallmark. He spends a fair amount of time reading the verses, and doesn’t stop until he finds one that either brings him to tears or makes him laugh out loud.

This year’s Mother’s Day card brought forth tears:

Love means trusting myself with someone 

who has seen me at my worst

and loves me anyway. It means teasing each other

and laughing at inside jokes

nobody but us understands.

It means feeling safe enough to talk about anything

and having the patience to work out disagreements.

Love means counting on someone who sympathizes when I’ve had a bad day, 

worries about me when I’m gone too long,

and always welcomes me with open arms.

Love means so many things 

because to me, love is you.

He added, “I love you in so many ways! You are my life and purpose for living.”

And I am a most fortunate woman.