Today like millions of other Americans
I went to work. I didn’t design a beautiful skyscraper,
I didn’t write a proposal to save an endangered species,
And I didn’t drive a bus or fly a plane,
Or write a crucial bill that would someday become a law.
However, I did spend time with some very important people.
I sang the alphabet song with a Supreme Court Justice.
I ate lunch with a pastor,
And patted the back of an engineer,
Taught a policeman how to zip his jacket,
And introduced an astronaut to the color red.
Tomorrow, who knows whom I’ll meet,
But one thing is for sure…
They will be very important
For they are our precious children,
And the hope of our very future.
Adjective
1. tasting of or being a mixture of bitterness and sweetness
2. pleasant but tinged with sadness
This definition fits like a soft, well worn pair of jeans. My mother was ill year upon year, and had virtually switched roles; I now her “mother” (with 2 small kids of my own) she the “child,” her cognitive thoughts and reasoning stolen by a massive stroke. I longed for the mom I once knew but loved the “momchild” I now had…bittersweet.
Years have been spent dwelling on the meaning of that last action (as if she had any control of the timing) and I made the choice to honor her memory on that day…realizing in a way it was her last gift to me …the deep comfort of knowing she was free…bittersweet.
