I knew she was coming, and I was watching for her... but it did not stop my heart from leaping at the sight of her. And then I was in her arms... and all was right with the world. Even though it really wasn't.
With hardly a word, love spun around... from daughter to mother, mother to daughter, and back 'round again. I may be forty, but her arms are still a healing place. Heart scraped raw, eyes rimmed red... and her kiss can make it better. Not all better... but enough. We chat, we laugh, we share a few tears... and the day grows brighter.
I want to remember this... and I tuck away the hope that someday, beyond skinned knees and the it's not fairs, that my kiss or my words will still hold the wonder for my own children.