Why do mothers write?

This morning as I sit near my window looking out over the heavy haze that a warm New England morning will set upon the stubborn mounds of snow, I am reminded of my son’s smile last night when I hugged him good-bye. He is twenty-one, and he and his fiancé are spending their last college spring break with his grandparents (my parents) someplace warmer. His flight left early, and my youngest son kindly volunteered to drive them to the airport so that I could sleep in.

When I kissed my oldest good bye, he whispered in my ear, so as not to hurt his brother, “Would you drive us?”

“Why?” I asked.

“I just need you to,” he said.

I could feel it in his hug, and I understood. Flying makes him nervous, and he needed me to be there to send him off.

I promised to be up to drive him, and went to bed feeling blessed that it still mattered and wanting to relish being needed for a bit longer.

This is why we write.

And, it’s why we created Mothers Always Write, a new literary journal for mothers by mother writers. MAW is a place where mothers (and fathers) can share their poetry and essays about their parenting experiences. Please join us.