my mother...

Feb 08

My Mother



I liked that she was always there

I liked that i was not afraid of her

I liked to see her sitting down
sometimes her face buried in a magazine
but i did not mind it
because she looked less sad when sitting down.

I liked to hear her talk when we had visitors
maybe i was thirsty for her voice
or the expressions on her face
or signs of her intellect
anything that animated her and took away her sadness.

I hated it when she did housework
she hated it too and looked distressed, distant and unhappy.
She often used to sing during those times
which was a sign that she was unhappy
and it meant 'do not interrupt'.

I always believed she did not want to be there
and did not want me there either.

I was part of her distress.

Occasionally i was surprised by a look in her eyes
that resembled 'care' for me ...or was it love?

I never felt she loved me
there were never any happy 'together' moments
during my early childhood ...None.

Yet, there was never a time that she was not there for me
or a time that i was not part of her life.
Always there when i needed her,
always supported me in any way she could,
morally, materially or by just being there,
right to the end of her days.

It took me well over three decades
before i could see it all in the right perspective.




She will always be the Moonlight in my dark nights...


Alter Ego