(M)other

Abstract

October 5th, 2005 was a very warm day. I was busy teaching. I felt like I lived at work on Wednesdays as I taught both a morning and evening class and didn’t go home in between, Honestly, I don’t know for sure what I did on that day, but I can imagine myself at work running from meeting to meeting or in my office grading student papers. I can imagine what the morning light is like in my office on a warm autumn day—the way it demands attention cutting through the morning hush offering my poor plants the only light they will have. On that particular day, anyone watching wouldn’t have realized that it was one of the most important days of my life. I didn’t know it either.

October 5th, 2005 was a cooler day compared to the week before and there was a little bit of rain. I don’t know if it happened during the day or night, if it was noisy or quiet, hectic or peaceful. I don’t know what the place looked like or even who was there.

This was the day my daughter was born in China.

I don’t know what my daughter saw when she opened her eyes for the first time, but I hope it was love.