The Best Years of Your Life

I originally wrote this poem as a Christmas gift to my wife in 1997 when we only had two children.  It's even more applicable now that we have six.  For a little background, my wife has a degree in Modern Dance and was a talented dancer and choreographer before we started having children.  There are many days when it seems like she doesn't accomplish anything "important" and feels like she doesn't get any time for herself.  I think a lot of mothers can relate.  This poem attempts to fast forward to a bittersweet point in time when the kids are all raised and on their own and it is written as if from them to her.

The Best Years of Your Life     

The mess is all gone now, the house now stays clean; 

The smudges on windows and mirrors can’t be seen. 

The floor is not scattered with cars, planes and trains; 

The couch is not covered with apple juice stains. 

You sleep through the night now, no cries make you wake; 

No feedings or bottles or juice must you make. 

You go where you want now, you don’t have to care 

Of diapers and car seats and tantrums that flair. 

Of course, things were different years ago; 

And life as it now is was not always so. 

When days upon years were spent cleaning up toys; 

And drying the tears of both sorrows and joys. 

See now how you gave of your talent and time, 

And sacrificed all in the midst of your prime. 

See now how you gave the best years of your life; 

To being a mother, a teacher, a wife. 

You could have performed on the stage for the crowd; 

Admired by thousands who cheered while you bowed. 

You could have sought freedom or fortune and fame; 

You could have pursued in life wealth and acclaim. 

Instead you were there with us drying our tears, 

And building us up with encouraging cheers. 

Instead you were there when we ran wild and played; 

Instead you gave comfort and calmed when afraid. 

We know that some days we took all that you had; 

And left you exhausted, frustrated and sad. 

Your patience we often would stretch very thin, 

Yet each day with renewed love for us you’d begin. 

And now that we’re older and wiser and grown; 

And now that we’re living out here on our own, 

We hope you’ll forget all the trouble and strife; 

Remembering these, the best years of your life.

(c) John Groberg, December 1997. All rights reserved.