I get a little sad on Mother’s Day because it’s a poignant reminder that I no longer have grandmothers or a mother, and that I never became a mother. More than celebration for me it’s a day of honoring and remembering. Remembering kisses and hugs, textures and smells, the ineffable love and devotion that emanates between mother and child. As an adult I have mothered others, but it has not been easy to accept mothering from others. I remember letting my Anam Cara (my soul friend), mother me as I shouldered the responsibility of my own mother’s memorial service for my family 15 years ago. And it was my BFF’s mother, my adopted Italian Mommy, who said to me “you know, love is free.” Today is my Anam Cara’s 60th Birthday. She is lovingly cooking all day to host her family tomorrow for Mother’s Day. Her mother has Alzheimer’s and probably won’t remember much about the day, the cards that say we love her or the names of those hugging her, but she’ll feel the love surrounding her. So I am doubly sad not be able to celebrate my best friend’s birthday and Mother’s Day with them in person. And, I am hugely grateful that we are all still here to tell each other how much love we share, punctuated by emoji hugs and kisses through the ethers. In recent years I’ve learned to be a good mother to myself. So I am imagining my mother-self holding my child-self lovingly and comforting me in her arms, while being surrounded by all the good mothers I know and cherish, cradled in the lap of the Divine Mother. May Mother’s Day be good to all who have learned to be good mothers to ourselves and may we honor the Divinity of Motherhood from which all life springs.