VOLUME IS READING

MOTHER 

She talks so proudly of the day I was born, she remembers holding me making promises only she could keep. I was her one and only, I was hers. She was always stern, very generous with her corrections. Showing love was for the weak and idle, her love was to provide a home secure and sound. Her love was to teach me all she knew, learn from her mistakes, grow within her wisdom. Her actions were like a Shakespearean script, poetic yet striking deep within your heart, embedded in your memory never to be forgotten. Her words hidden within her struggle, only heard by those she allowed to get close. I was close, I felt her strength binding us in love, protecting us from her pain. She faltered not in her quest for perfection, I was to be perfect, I was hers. She held us together with pennies and spuds, we never starved, we never wasted a morsel. Value of life was a must in our home, teaching me to be proud of the least and the great. She taught me to become the only thing she knew, a mother, a wife, a legacy bearer for all the women who came before her.