No Simple Stone

Mom,

To say you are my rock would be the understatement of the century.

You are no simple stone.

You are my fortress, my safe place, my walls against the siege of everyday life.

You are no simple stone.

You are the garden in which I can whisper the secret longings of my soul, where I pour my pities and flowers grow– where I sing dreams, you give butterfly wings.

You are no simple stone.

You are the family room: the comfortable place to lay my head after a day that just won’t seem to end– the warmth of soft blankets around my shoulders– the laughter of quiet conversations over coffee cups.

You are no simple stone.

You are the kitchen, where dancing turns even the most miserable of tasks into joy. The place where my spirit is fed just as much as my body– the place where the everyday ordinariness of potatoes might just become a delectable dish.

You are no simple stone.

Mom– You make this world home.