Mom, this Christmas
You are the epitome of beauty from ashes
You are the comfort of a Sunday morning.
The Sweet scent of Christmas
Like the meaning of life, I’d search the ends of the universe just to find you
You’re the tender moment in the perfect hug
You captured the beautiful moments a child dreams of and gave them to us wrapped in warmth
You handpicked stars from the sky, dusted off the moon dust and called them lullabies
You took the troubles of life upon your shoulders
You found the highest mountaintop, climbed as high as it took, and shook the troubles away there
You smiled at God giving the sun its shine and shimmer when the chaos of the life has taken its toll on me.
I search for your face in the crowed. I hope and pray I find you in the mess.
There you are, not a glimpse of distress. You are my constant and strength when I’m weak.
To have a Mom like you, there’s no one luckier than me.
I’m excited for my children to have a Nana such as yourself.
I’d consider it nothing but pure wealth.
But if any day you look back and can’t remember who we are,
I pray God sends you a shooting star.
When the star races the sky, I pray your heart remembers the way we used to sing in the car, laugh until we cried, and cried until we laughed again.
I will never be able to thank you enough, for making everywhere you are, HOME.