I owe so much to the mothers.

It is mothers who (by and large) invite me into their homes to see their work– their work that is so often taken for granted–ignored–trivialized– reduced– undervalued–forgotten.

They show me how they make beds and meals and memories.

I watch as they hold space and secrets and hands, as they whisper prayers in ears, as they smooth hairs, as they nod their heads while listening to long winded and plotless stories. 

They let me make the pictures.

They let me show them the beauty in the labor of their love.

And they let me share that work so that other mother’s can see it too.