Mother dear,

As a girl I never had much time for my mother. She was around, that was enough for me. Today, as she sits in her chair,head slightly bent,sightless eyes staring ahead,her left side immobilised by a stroke,tired in spirit yet unbeaten,she   is still there for me.I still draw strength and solace from the frail,withered figure;whether it is my frustration at my daughter’s refusal to marry or dissatisfaction with my  husband or some health problem-I pour it all to her; ‘Ma’ I begin and oh! the blessedness of it- to be able to call her out aloud,to hear her reply,however brief,to feel the roots of this life of mine hold me firmly in their grasp.I  love you Ma.

3 thoughts on “Mother dear,

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