One of the unasked for upsides
to being richly blessed
with loving family
is the many wonderful
gifts from them I have received.

One that stands out, though,
is a gift that the sender
had no idea would be so profound.

My first husband was abusive,
did not value me as a wife or mother.
He declared Mother’s Day stupid,
a Hallmark holiday with no real meaning,
and so for years its only commemoration
was by what teachers created.

That marriage eventually failed
a shock to no one but him,
and I began to date online
a new old love from high school.

He lived far away in Germany,
I and my children in the States,
but constant online contact
meant he knew me and the children well.

The last Mother’s Day before we married
he sent a sumptuous gift,
flowers, chocolates, fruits, sausages
and cheeses, and a beautiful note
took me by such complete surprise,
I cried.

Years of neglect and cruelty
had trained me to expect nothing,
so simply being remembered
became extraordinary.