My little boy came into the kitchen this evening while I was fixing supper, and he handed me
a piece of paper he'd been writing on, and after wiping my hands on my apron, I read
it, and this is what it said, for mowing the yard, five dollars, making my own bed this
week, one dollar, and going to the store, fifty cents, and watching little brother while
you went shopping, twenty-five cents.
For taking
that
little brother while you went shopping, twenty-five cents.
Getting out the trash, one dollar, getting a good report card, five dollars, and raking
the yard, two dollars, total old, fourteen-seventy-five, well I stood there looking at him expectantly,
and a thousand memories flashed through my mind, so I picked up the pen, and I wrote
turning the paper over, this is what I wrote, for the nine months I carried you, growing
inside me, no charge, for the nights I sat up with you, doctored you, prayed for you,
no charge, for the time and the tears,
and the cost, through the years, there's no charge, when you add it all up, the full
cost of my love is no charge, for the nights filled with dread, and the worry I had, no
charge, for advice and the
The knowledge and the cost of your college, no charge.
For the toys, food, and clothes, and full wipe in your nose, there's no charge, son.
When you add it all up, the full cost of my love is no charge.
Well, when he finished reading, he had great big old tears in his eyes.
And he looked up at me and he said, Mama, I sure do love you.
Then he took the pen and in great big letters he wrote, paid in full.
When you add it all up, the cost of real love is no charge.
When you add it up, the cost of real love is no charge.