If I Were You, and You Were Me…

Kathy Riley-Price

November 12, 2025 - If I were you, and you were me, which life would you choose: the present time’s crowded hush, or the bright, uncertain promise of tomorrow? Would my days fold you under their weight, making you close my life’s book and walk away? Or would you sit, stubborn and slow, turning every problem like a stone until its shape is clear? Could you finish my homework while laughter fills the room, juggle equations and crayons, patience and play?

My eleven-year-old speaks like a river, warm and unstoppable. Her voice is a sunrise that never learns to hide its light. She is my compass, spilling secrets into my ear, laughing, asking. Living. How could I ever be angry at that?

Beneath that ease, my little son’s one year of pure demand arms windmill at the world. His call is different but the same, bright and urgent, seeming to shout: “See me!” He screams because the world is now, and I am all he knows. Between their wants and my deadlines, the hours grow as thin as paper.

Remember, you are in my shoes. What would you do? Do you turn away? Do you shrink your love to fit the time, or keep pushing forward, messy and exhausted, choosing the long road over shortcuts?

Sometimes, I sit still and taste the strange luxury of having nothing to do. How lucky I feel to finish my tasks, to step outside alone, to call a friend and not be pulled back by tiny hands. Would you trade places with me? For your quiet for my beautiful chaos? Don’t forget to make dinner!

Once I make it through chapter one, it feels like two more sections waiting for me like small mountains. It takes an hour to cook; the clock says seven, then eight. Life is these minutes stack like the pages waiting for me: children, papers, laughter, the stove’s slow breath. If I were you, and you were me, would you stay? Would you take my life and make it yours, or remain in your perfect peace without the lion’s roar?

Hear this: what you’ve just read is not only mine but every mother’s, the life of those who are now and those who will be. We have each held these moments, and we will never squander the small, indelible ones. I am a mother, yours to call, the one the Lord made to be perfectly yours. The one you call when you’re alone, the one who catches your tears when you’re done crying, the one who knows when you’re not feeling well even though your emotions don’t show. I am a mother.

If you were me and I were you, would you take chaos over peace, even as the sounds of ruckus are full of memories? If I were you and you saw me, would you change these moments of memories? If I were you, I would say “hello, welcome to my lovely home.” 

Everyone has a story to tell whether you’re a mother, a father, a daughter, a sister, or a brother, take time to hear each other’s story. In everyone’s story, there’s a little bit of you inside of everyone else. Don’t be afraid to reach out. There’s someone out there who knows what you’re talking about.