- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing Mom's glow was the first thing you noticed. Her eyes twinkled in the light, as only a crush's can. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, even when frowning at the news. The edges of her eyes marked her emotion, down for sad, pinched for smiling, lifted for surprise. Her emotion broke through, even when masked, against the blowing sand and dirt. How did she keep such dignity, such positivity, such daily presence, with the drought at nearly 1200 days, and the political atmosphere so unstable? How did she let her worry for her children take a back seat to her appreciation for each day? If you asked her, she would turn her back, brush it off, say something like "You're just being silly, I'm just like anyone else." But, she wasn't. She always brought positivity. She always appreciated you. She always loved you. It's easy to declare that a mother's job is love, but a mother has lots of complicated jobs. Job number one is actually to be a catapult, a catalyst, a launching pad. This job is more important than love, although love augments it. The species is job number one, the individual is job number two. An interested question to ask is where does the nation, the state, and the community fall between job one and job two? When does it augment? When does it interfere. With both the preservation of the species and the actualization of the individual. We know what Mary would say about that, "Stupid politicians. Just let me fight over us and ignore them!" It was the one time her eyes would show that other emotion: disappointment? Anger? No never anger. But, something close to it. Her career, as a recovery counselor, slammed into her life as a mother in complex ways. She never quite trusted anything you said, but she fully loved you anyways. That's probably for the best, she shouldn't have trusted us, fully.