On the last day of July a fictional character was born, a boy who through an act of violence and a mother’s sacrifice found himself at the center of a battle to save humanity from evil. A boy who inspired loyalty among his friends. A boy who struggled with inner demons. A boy who was protected by both light and dark. A boy who was abused by family but went on to believe in himself and his abilities. A boy who knew love was the strongest of all emotions.
Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon and evening watching parts of the final three Harry Potter movies. Despite the profuse amount of commercials, I persevered. (Someday I will purchase the set so I can experience magic any time I feel my own darkness creeping through my soul.) I was waiting for my favorite scene, the one that tears a hole in my heart every time I see or read it. Throughout the series, Harry thought Professor Snape despised him. This shadowy figure floated over and through him. He watched in horror as Snape killed his beloved friend. Harry truly believed Snape was devoted to the Dark Lord until…until he was able to “see” Snape’s memories through his tears. He then saw the love Snape had for his mother and the promise he made to Dumbledore and himself to protect Harry, even though he wanted no one to know. Harry realized the patronus was Snape’s all along, keeping watch and attempting to shield him from Voldemort’s rage and fury. Harry watched as Snape summoned his doe in Dumbledore’s office. The wizard asked him, “After all this time?” “Always,” said Snape.
Always. This line resonates in my very being. Always.
Always I have loved the children I vowed to protect the first moment they were placed in my arms.
Always I hold their hands and their hearts, even when they are miles aways.
Always I smile when they smile.
Always I hurt when they are hurt.
Always I say a silent prayer for them every evening.
Always they are the first thought I have in the morning and the last I have at night.
Always I am there for them, even if they sometimes don’t believe it.
Always I celebrate their victories and cry at their struggles.
Always if they were to capture my tears they wouldn’t even begin to see the depth of my love.
Always if I could pick a patronus it would be a heart, beating a constant rhythm of fierce protection.
Always I am their mother.
Always. After all this time. Always.