Dear Momma,

There is a species of tern that inhabits the beach near us. I forget why these terns are known as Least Terns. Probably named after someone. I’ll have to look it up. But it’s definitely a misnomer because in my opinion they are not the least anything. They are the most adorable and absolutely the most likely to make me think of you. I swear, the Least Tern is the most loving mother I’ve ever seen.

In late spring, I head out to the water’s edge all by myself, maybe early in the morning before work, even though it’s not exactly on the way. I love to watch the different shorebirds as their eggs hatch. I keep my distance and use my binoculars—the same ones you gave me twenty years ago that I use constantly.

The Least Terns are the smallest in all the terns. Once the momma’s eggs have hatched, usually right on the sand, both she and the papa take turns with feeding. But it’s momma who stands over them to shade them from the sun. When it’s hot and they can’t yet leave the nest, she soaks her belly feathers in sea water and cools them off with a little tummy sponge bath. She is no pushover though. Once her babies are ready to leave the nest, she makes sure they know what to do. She keeps a close eye on them for weeks as they scamper along the shore. When it’s time, she teaches them everything she knows about flying. The babies stay close for several months after that, soaking in more of her motherly wisdom, I can only assume.

Least Terns know how to use air currents to hover above the waves. They do that better than other kinds of terns (another reason they should not be called “least!”). I love these little birds. And they do make me think of you. How you always knew me so well, understood what I needed, cared endlessly—and shared your wisdom, love, and encouragement, right up to the moment when I flew the nest. And beyond. And like the Least Tern, you seem able to rise up and rest upon gusts of air. You never seem weighed down, burdened, exhausted by what life requires of you. You joyously lift yourself upward, apparently without effort—even though I know sometimes it must be hard—to live fully and love me with everything you had.

Thank you for sharing your memories with me in the archive. These letters from you are a gift that I cherish more than you know. I can’t wait to add a few memories of my own!

Miss you. Love, Lisa