I don’t know if you’ll remember these days.
But I’ll remember.
I’ll remember that I was the teacher.
The breakfast maker.
The picnic planner.
The one who got to play with you.
I sat in the audience and watched your imagination take flight.
I was the healer of the ouchies.
And the dancer.
I was the one who let you disappear into your favorite movies — over and over again — so I could get a little work done.
And always, always…I was the mama.
You thought I was the greatest.
But I’ll remember how much I worried.
Would you stay safe? I wondered.
Were we doing the right things? Making the best choices?
I don’t know if you’ll remember the masks.
Or all the phone calls and video chats.
I don’t know if you’ll remember missing your friends or skipping trips to the zoo.
But I hope you’ll remember the adventure.
How we discovered dinosaurs and climbed mountains and laughed from the belly.
All in our own backyard.
I hope you’ll remember learning about the world. I’m sure you’ll look back and see that — in some ways — it fell apart. But I hope you’ll remember that the world also joined together.
I hope you’ll remember the love. And the singing.
I hope you’ll remember how we danced in the kitchen.
I hope you’ll remember you were happy.
And you were my everything — safely tucked in at home.
The truth is, I don’t know if you’ll remember.
But I will.
And the next time the world goes quiet…the next time life slows down…I promise you this…
There will be dancing.