May snow

In macchina, di ritorno da una cena a Santa Fe, per una volta tutti zitti come topolini per la stanchezza. Passiamo davanti al cimitero militare: lunghe file di pietre bianchissime, tutte identiche, in perfetto ordine e apparentemente infinite, nella luce del tramonto ancora più suggestive e malinconiche.
Vocina dal sedile posteriore:
"Mamma, cos'è quello? Snow?"


Mother's day

Motherhood is about accepting the limitations of time and energy which stretch beyond you, even though sometimes it feels like they could consume you. Search for and hold on to your own true self. If you lose that, what kind of mother can you be?
Things are always changing, no matter how much we might want them to stay the same: you could take a picture of your children every single day, and every single day they'd just be getting older. That's a fact. A heart-breaking fact, but still a fact. So seize your days and dwell on them fully. Look at your children because they know how to inhabit brief periods of time with extreme passion, and for nothing more really than the sake of those moments. They can help you remember that, if you only slow down and let them.
Feel fortunate, because chances are good that you actually might be.

There's something to go back on the black days, when it's five o' clock and I'm already feeling knackered, but also on those really good ones, when I feel like I'm doing great and nobody is there to clap. On those days when everyone seems so demanding, and I'd really like to be able to press pause for half an hour. On those days when everything feels child-related, and what is not seems to take forever, because it always ends up at the bottom of the priority list. Very intense and exausting days lay ahead - probably the best of our lives.

(the passage is transcript from "Motherhood", about a full-time mum raising two kids in a, uhm, challenging environment: not a terrific movie per se, but anything that can offer the opportunity to identify with Uma Thurman for 70 minutes or so might be worth a look)