Your mother, your first home, your first love.


Your Mother is always with you. She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick, the fragrance of life itself. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well, she’s your breath in the air on a cold winter’s day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning. Your mother lives inside your laughter. She’s the place you came from, your first home, and she’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you.Not time, not space, not even death.

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3 Comments

  1. I still remember how she was bending my feet toes, she loved to knuckle them.That was supported with eruptions of laught from my side, giggles and tickles.She did it even when I grew up.Oh..

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