Today is Mother's Day.
I am in school with my brother, Elliot. We sit together because we are brothers.
We are both in second grade.
The teacher's name is Ms. Jane. She is nice and pretty like my Mommy. She wears a necklace that is in the shape of the moon.
Today, we must write a poem and draw a picture for our Mommy.
Poems are words that sound like other words.
Sometimes they are easy and other times they are hard.
Ms. Janes reads us a poem everyday so I know what they are.
I go and get the paper and crayons.
I draw my picture.
I am not the best but I try my best.
My picture is of me and Mommy.
I drew here like a Doctor Angel when she took care of me in the hospital.
She has wings and a halo and a tet-a-scope that I can hear my heart with.
Ms. Jane comes to look at my picture but I think I'm in trouble.
"Christian, you just have a picture to show. Where is your poem?"
I look up but don't say anything.
Ms. Jane bends down next to me. "Do you know how to write a poem?"
I nod.
"Would you like some help?"
I nod again.
...
School is over!
Elliot and me are picked up from school by our Grandpa Theodore.
Daddy is still at work and Mommy is with Grandma at our house.
There is a pink flower near where Grandpa's car is.
I pull it and take it with me.
It will be pretty for Mommy to see.
I put the flower in my bag.
"The boys are home!" Grandpa says when we walk into our house.
Mommy gives Elliot a hug and Elliot gives her is poem.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"
Mommy smiles and ruffles Elliot's hair.
"Oh, Elliot, honey, I love it! And I love this drawing of our family! Thank you!" Mommy hugs Elliot again.
Elliot points at me. "Christian made one, too. He said he wants to read it to you."
I glare at him angrily.
I never said that.
"I'm gonna go play Nintendo, okay, Mom?"
Elliot runs up the stairs to his room before I can catch him.
But today is Mother's Day and we shouldn't fight.
From my school bag, I take out my poem.
My drawing is on one side and my poem is on the other.
I hold it up so Mommy can see the picture while I read.
...
"I remember when I was brought into your life.
You were there to take care of me, to make me feel alive.
There you were, my Angel, to stand by me every step of the way, to gladly be my new Mother.
There you were, my Mother, to comfort me and tell me everything's going to be okay.
There you were, my Mother, to take the role in my life and welcome me into the family of Grey.
There you were, my Mother, to listen to all of my problems and to stick up for me.
There you were my Angel, my Mother.
There you are my Mother, my Angel.
I love you."
...
Mommy has tears in her eyes but she is happy.
I give her my poem and point to the picture.
I take out the pink flower and give it to Mommy.
"That poem was beautiful, my darling boy." Mommy takes the flower. "Follow me."
She goes into the kitchen and fills a tall cup with water and then puts the flower in it.
Then she takes the cup and places it on the dinner table.
"Thank you, Christian."
"You're welcome, Mommy." I say.
...
A/N: Hello Fifties, I am so so sorry this story is late (and quite short). Happy Mother's Day to all; whether you are Mothers-to-be, adoptive Mothers, Godmothers or just Mothers in general. Thank you, guests AND users for reading, reviewing (if you want to), and favoriting.
