Your mother is always with you.
She is the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks. She's the smell of certain foods you remember, the flowers you pick and the perfume that she wore. 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 and the colors of a rainbow when you awaken.
She is the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks. She's the smell of certain foods you remember, the flowers you pick and the perfume that she wore. 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 and the colors of a rainbow when you awaken.
She is Christmas morning.
Your mother lives inside your laughter and is crystallized in every tear drop. Your mother shows every emotion; happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, hope, excitement, joy, and sorry - and all the while hoping you will only know the good feelings in life.
She is the place you came from; your first home, and she is the map you follow with every step you take.
She is your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you; not time, not space, not even death.
She is your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you; not time, not space, not even death.
- Sherry Martin
