I have a thing for Saint Anne imagery. Mother and Child are usually so small you could hold them in the palm of your hand. Instead of a throne, Mother is seated improbably in the crook of the arm of her own mother, Saint Anne. The enormous Anne gazes out serenely, carrying her miniaturized descendants as if they weighed nothing.

Mary is nestled in her overlapping identities, a daughter and a mother, carried as she carries. Caregiving and carereceiving coexist in her body.

She could let go and nothing would fall.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone with arms holding someone else — may we all hold each other 🤲