Mothers day....

Where would you be if where you were was lonely. Where would you be if you didn't have anything around you only the colour of lonely blinding you...

We've all had those moments of lonely, those moments of wondering why you're alone, those moments in your head or in your thoughts, moments of wishing you were anywhere else but alone...

Pandemics and war and suffering continue, full circle. It didn't start today or two years ago, its a journey that we all have to walk. A repeated journey. 

Life hurts and sometimes we forget to heal the hurt of each other, as each other suffers....

Tonight I'm eleven years old and wishing I was fifteen, you know that feeling... the lack of boobs and the skinny ass wondering where the rest of you is...

And your mother shaking her head and shaking her apron and wiping her brow in exhaustion at you,..

And all she wants to do is to finish cooking dinner for about twenty five children.. there's actually eight of us.. but let's give her the pain because we were loud in multiples.. and all I want is her full attention and I couldn't give a hungry childs cry for anything other than having her listen to me...

I'm eleven... then I'm twelve and sixteen and suddenly I'm forty something, about to hit fifty and she's no longer here, and the world stops suddenly...

The woman that dressed me in ridiculous clothes, and told me I was being ridiculous when I thought I was being sane about ridiculous things is no longer shaking her head and shaking her apron, and I'm no longer covered in the flour that dared to grace the apron she's shaking....

That woman, my mother, is no longer here and I watch children shaking their heads at their mother.... and mothers proudly cry at their childrens achievement while those children wonder why their mother is shaking something invisible...

That something invisible is an apron string we're tied to... it's called a heart... a mothers heart and we don't ever try to cut the strings, we don't ever want to lose that tread...

We can never lose that tread of belonging...

For losing it means we no longer get to scream for attention or cry for a hug....

Losing it means we forever fall wanting a hug we wish we could fall into...

I'm forever eleven, twelve, sixteen and forty something wondering where the rest of me is, then remembering the best of me is in my mothers arms forever...

Within a mother...

Where we all belong......

Valerie Masters