A Field of Dreams – The Maternal Version


When my daughter was little she would hug me a million times, anytime we had to go our separate ways. Me to work. Her to daycare, school, a birthday party, grandparent visits. Sometimes tears would flow, hot and fast. She’d become a streaky red ball of snot with golden hair. She’d grab my neck and wrap herself around me like a kudzu vine.

Then 4 becomes 6. I’d get a pat. A peck. A one handed squeeze. 6 turns to 10. Air-kisses are slung over her shoulder. Because she knows I like them. Fingers wave while she says, “I’ve got to go”.

The teenage years came over night. Peace signs are flashed. Knuckle bumps are offered as she bolts from the car. Hugs around the neck are followed by a request to go roller skating. Kisses are saved for bedtime. At home. Where no one can see. I know she has to let me go a bit. I know I have to let her go, too. But as each year passes, I never feel ready.

Recently, work carried me out of town for a week. Back home, I sat on the bed. Staring at a suitcase in need of unpacking.

And then there was a weight. Across my lap. I’d almost forgotten. Warm breath on my legs. Hands tucked under her cheek. As if a butterfly had landed on my nose, I froze. Because I’ve missed this. The curling up. The curling into. The teenager who’s all elbows and knees disappears and a little girl takes her place. One who’s not too big for my lap. One’s who’s not too embarrassed to say “I missed you”. One who knows that the quickest way to get to your Mamma’s heart is to lay your head in her lap.

I just sat. She snuggled in. The suitcase can wait. That’s when I had a “Field of Dreams” moment. If I build it ~ she will come. If the lap is there. Waiting. She will find it. I have to sit still a moment. For laps aren’t created by a body on the move.

Here’s to taking a moment and making a lap no matter how big your kiddos are.

About the Author

Franny Bolsa is a girl who tells stories. When she's not at her day job she can be found dreaming, wearing aprons without pearls, getting her hands dirty in the garden, behind the business end of her camera or muddling her way through life with a teenaged daughter. You can visit her anytime you want. Like Motel 6, she'll leave a light on for ya. But the coffee's better and the sheets are fresher at her place. You can also find her on Facebook.


  1. This made me tear up! So beautifully written! Being a mother is such hard work, your heart is ripped open every day.

  2. My daughter is at the “infinite amount of hugs and kisses stage” (for the most part…she is 21 months after all). Your sweet post had tears welling up at the thought of these abundant hugs and kisses not lasting forever.

    • They may bot be given so freely forever but the good thing is they are always there. Just a wee bit below the surface. Build a space and a moment for them and they fall like rain. Soak up ‘em up while they’re infinite. Then be ready to squeeze them out in few years. Thanks so much for reading. I always feel a tad bit bad for making tears well up :)

  3. So beautiful. I will remember this everyday! Thank you for reminding me to stop long enough to let the moments I will treasure happen :)

  4. Oh, Lisa. You were one of the first to know I was going to become a mother when I shared it with a few…. and you’ve been there leading the way. I also wrote today of letting go, and holding on. From another angle you’ve experienced previous also. Lots of love to you, and keep writing. XXX

    • Ms. Booty; I remember that day well. You sat in my office, a bold red scarf knotted up all fancy-like in your hair – and you just glowed :) Thank you for your sweet words. And while you’re holding on and letting go – know that I hold you close every day. I wish you peace in the letting go and mad love crazy celebration in the holding on. I have line-backer sized shoulders and they are yours if you need to lean on them. Much love to you my friend.


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