One of my strongest memories from childhood is my mother following me with a spoonful of rice on the days when I didn't eat well. 

The very first love we feel when we are born into the world is motherhood — to feed, clothe, and care for. It is the utmost sincerity, a love cherished more than oneself. It is a primal desire for both the one who gives and the one who receives, and it is the mother of all love. 

To live is to be mothered. Perhaps I am molded from each grain of rice in my mother’s spoon. 

Thinking of all the maternal obsession, anxiety, anger, resentment, and shame you must have felt to give birth to and raise a child — and nevertheless, the embrace, hope, and joy.