In three short weeks, it will be three years since my mother passed away. She was my best friend, my confidant. This close-knit relationship did not really begin until about 10 years after I left home, after I’d become a married lady, and the reason being that as the second of seven children, my mom was always too busy working and juggling the needs of her family to do anything other than get through every day . . . and that’s why I want to share the lesson she taught me in her poem:
“My Daughter Grows Up”
My hands were busy through the day . . .
I didn’t have time to teach my little girl
what to me was work, but to her was play
And when you’d come with your baby doll
and ask me to rock her back and forth,
I’d say, “Not now, I’m busy, dear.”
I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
kiss your cheek and hug you tight.
Tiptoeing softly to the door . . .
I’d glance at you again once more,
God’s little angel, my own delight.
I wish I’d stayed a minute more . . .
for life is short . . . the years rush past . . .
a little girl grows up too fast.
No longer is she at your side,
her precious secrets to confide.
The baby dolls are gone today,
and I remember all those times you’d ask
to help with little chores
“Can I put daddy’s clothes away?”
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear . . .
that belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still;
the days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and share
the little things that say, “I care.”
Her lesson to us all is to take those extra few minutes. Give those goodnight kisses for as long as your children let you — because in the blink of an eye, those opportunities will be but a memory..