If you walk up the stairs at my house, you’ll see probably 100 framed paintings, drawing or just “I love you, Mom” on notebook paper. I treasure each one. The oldest is legally an adult, my youngest is only one not a teenager. There is nothing like the love of a child for their mother, except the love of a devoted parent for their child. I didn’t understand love, REAL love, until I became a mom. Voluntary, daily, never ending sacrifice that I can’t imagine not making. The days are long, but I’m realizing that those years do be so heartbreakingly short...