You are the bows from which YOUR CHILDREN as living arrows are sent forth. -- Kahlil Gibran
There is such responsibility in being that bow, being a mom. I came home yesterday, drained by my day and, would that I were childless, I'd have dawned my jammies early and taken to bed with a glass of water and a book. Rather, I was greeted by my darlings and their dad, all of whom saw the pallor in my skin, who took me on as their case, to love. My youngest suggested dad grab burgers for the three of them for dinner so I wouldn't have to cook. Then they cautiously attended to me with little touches, an ice pack and stories of the day.
My bow felt a little crocked last night, but the arrows seem to be fairly true. I like it.