I used to call her when I was upset;
Or when I had a funny story. She
Would hear of things accomplished, goals unmet;
And listen, commenting subjectively.
That’s how it is with Moms, the best of which
Can nurture with a gentle, guiding hand.
But on this day that comes in May, we switch,
For I’m the one who listens now. Unplanned
Is the reversal of our standard roles;
She the child and I the mother now
Who coaxes, coaches, and at times consoles,
I wish that I could turn back time somehow.
I promise to remember all the things
That bind me to you with a million strings.
Janet Fricke Combs 