I don’t tend to get caught up too much in the commercial aspects of Mother’s Day. But what all the advertising and hoo-ha does is remind me to stop and think about how grateful I am to have a mother, one that I adore.
As a little girl I truly admired my mother, her ability to unfailingly ignite the imagination of my three sisters and I. The most fantastical adventures were conjured from thin air, and the simplest, most ordinary object in the room became enchanting.
Since then, I’ve always wanted my mother’s hands. Not because they are particularly beautiful, but because they are magical.
They told us stories.
They danced and floated and spoke to us in a thousand voices from distant lands.
They nourished us with wholesome food and wrapped us with loving embraces.
They dug the earth in our veggie patch with such love, that food was always abundant.
They guided us when we lost our way.
These hands created my world.
These are the hands I have longed to have all my life.
The hands that love the earth so much they don’t mind sharing cracks and crevices with soil.
The hands that weave, cradle, nuture, and constantly want for nothing but to hold you like a child once more, to help you wherever they can.
These hands are now loving my child just as much as me.
If I can be half the mother my mother is I will have achieved something great.
My inspiration. My mother. Love you. xx