Mother as a noun
If mother is a noun, it is a garden.
A beautiful, well-loved garden.
It is not beautiful in the way a manicured, well kempt garden is - the beauty is in the imperfections. The things tried that didn't really work. The things forgotten, that worked anyway.
The unique rambunctiousness that sometimes takes over and I love it, so I let it.
This garden, my garden of mother, is full of things that could heal you if you knew where to look or what to ask of it.
Gardens force you to pay attention or be swept away.
You will be swept away, of course you cannot pay attention all the time.
Mothering asks for attention, for presence. It's fun, it's messy as fuck. It's unpredictable and surprising, like all the best gardens.
It has its own rhythm, within the rhythm of the earth.