I wrote this poem yesterday. It reminded me of why I love being a mother. Goodnight Stars When you wake up you don't know Which days are diamonds and which are stones One diamond day I just came home from working And my son was still up, and I got to read him "Goodnight Moon" He was about two years old at the time and ablaze with life and wonder The book got me thinking, "Good night stars." I scooped him up in his p.j.'s and ran him out to the backyard. It was a perfectly clear, brilliant night for stars. This was early in the summer and it was warm. I held him tight against my chest and pointed to the sky, "Stars" I showed him with my heart full of love. He grinned from one ear to the other, "Stars" he repeated. Then he laughed from the pure joy of it--in absolute awe. He totally got it and let those stars shine into his world, his life. He laughed some more at the pure ecstasy of the experience. I could only grin at how eager he was to let in more life, more beauty, more love. I wanted right that minute to take him across the country and show him an ocean. Or wait up all night and watch his face as he thrilled to his first sunrise. Where was a bird's nest full of baby birds he had never before seen? Why couldn't it be winter and I could take him to see the frozen waves of Lake Michigan? The Grand Canyon would just have to wait, along with telescopic views of planets. Goodnight world everywhere full of countless wonders for a rich mother to give. Goodnight stars.

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