I have this hope that when the boys are grown, when we no longer find ourselves going to bed under one roof, and when they are independent adults—that they will say, my mom loved me too much. She gave me too many hugs and too many kisses. She was too interested in my life. She asked too many questions and offered too much encouragement. She showed me too much forgiveness and generosity and compassion. And even though sometimes it felt like it was all too much, now I know that she loved me just enough.