A (very) long time ago, when I was in the 1^st grade, in my class, each student grew from seed, a plant that would be ready for our mom’s on Mother’s Day. I remember watching it daily, from my fascination of a seed germinating, to watching it grow into an actual plant. I don’t recall the type of plant that I grew, but can vividly remember the day I brought it proudly and carefully home to give to my mom.

From the school yard to the big yellow bus that would take me home was a brief two minute walk. There were two separate school buildings…1^st through 3^rd grades were in one building, while the 4^th through 6^th grades were in another building. The bus that went by my street was always parked at the other building, hence, my short walk to the bus.

When the school bell rang at 3:05pm, about 500 or 600 kids from both elementary schools descended en masse to the busses, as they promptly left at 3:15pm. Well, the school bell rang and with much care (as my 1^st grade teacher instructed), I carefully guarded the plant I had grown from seed and would soon give to my mom.

Out of no where, an upperclassman, maybe a 6^th grader, running through the crowd of kids, ran right into me…crashing right into me was probably more accurate. My precious little plant in its 3” terracotta pot went flying through the air. I can still see it today in my minds eye. In slow motion, crashing to the ground, the pot breaking into 3 or 4 main pieces, the dirt splashing the ground, while my previous, living plant snapped into 2.

At the moment of impact, when the upperclassman ran into me, I screamed…maybe shrieked is more accurate! Two or three seconds later, I can’t say that I cried…no…I sobbed! I sobbed uncontrollably. This was the worst moment in my little life. I was now the only one in my class who would not be giving my mother the plant we’d grown in 1^st grade. I didn’t stop sobbing until I got on the bus.

I don’t know who the boy was who so innocently crashed into me, nor did I ever know why he was in such a hurry. He did his best however to console me…he apologized profusely and helped me gather the pieces of my now shattered Mother’s Day present. I remember seeing him put the pieces into my hands as tears streamed down my face. He continued to do his best to console me, even walking me to my bus.

On the school bus ride home, I wept a good part of the way. No one had to ask why…they only had to look at the broken pot, the snapped in two flower & the shattered dream of a little boy to know why he was crying. The other 1^st graders on the bus all had their plants. They understood my sadness.

The bus would let us off at the end of our street and all the kids walked home from there. The walk to my house was only a few minutes. It seemed like forever that day.

There was mom, as always, waiting at the door for me. Proud of her #4 son, she greeted me with a smile, a hug and a kiss every day. This day, I got more…much more.

When our eyes met, when we saw the expressions on each other’s faces…Mom’s of happiness to see her son…instantly turned to her own heartfelt sadness at what so obviously had happened. My sobbing started all over again…not nearly as much as in the schoolyard, but still, many tears from this little 6 year old boy.

With the patience and love only a mother knows, she listened to me tell my tragic story…and she let me cry as a mother sometimes should do. She held me till I didn’t have any more tears. A precious and tender moment of a mother and son bonding.

Then, she soothed me with her soft voice and tender words…words she lived by. She stroked my hair and told me that no matter what…no matter what, she would always love me.

Such pure and undying love…that of a mother for her child. For this and the countless little things that our mothers do for us we celebrate Mother’s Day.