My momma

It’s a Saturday afternoon, I’ve arrived at my Mum’s house to visit her. Haven’t been to her house for weeks and weeks.

It doesn’t matter how old I get, when I come to visit Mum, her home just feels like…home. I regress back to being a little girl, revelling in her love for us, her delight in seeing us and her ability to look after me and my girls in one fell swoop. Making it look effortless. She’s 60, but her energy levels astound me. She allows me to rest and sorts my universe out for me like a supercharged whirlwind – only repairing and fixing, instead of destroying.

I am on her cosy, comfortable sofa, opposite her fire. Hypnotised, I watch the flames dance vigorously with each other, whilst I’m curled up like a privileged bona-fide fat cat!

I listen as she prepares food for the girls. They are used to her ways now – to an outsider, it would sound like she’s telling them off, but that’s just her way. Fierce and loving at the same time. Traits more commonly associated with Sicilian mothers. Demonstrative. Protective. Honest – at times brutally honest. But loving. Oh so loving. Luckily, my girls know this, and love her back. Way more cheeky to her, than my sister or brother or I would dared to have been to her at that age. She takes it – and either laughs, or gives as good as she gets, and their laughter is like music as I sit in other room, away from their bubble.

Afterwards, we all huddle on the sofa together and watch the massive flakes of snow fall outside, grateful to be indoors together, in the warmth. This idyllic moment is short lived though, because after watching for a few minutes, I make the executive decision to drive back home. The volume of the snowfall seems to be increasing. The snowflakes look bigger and more menacing than before. Sadly, I decide its best if we drive back.

Before I go though, my heart soars with how grateful I am. It’s so important to count our blessings. February, 2 years ago, my grandmother passed away. For my mum, that was a devastating blow. Both her parents have passed on. She feels it so often. The pain of them not being there. Since the age of 17, after she married my dad and then left India, she has always looked after others. Never looked after herself. I feel full of gratitude everyday knowing that she’s always close by. Ready to drop everything at the drop of a hat to help if required.

She deserves so much happiness and love – more than there is available in this world.  It goes without saying, that I love her so much.

My beautiful, beautiful, gorgeous mum.


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