She is the most beautiful person in the world to me: She, who has been nurturing the child in me as well as influencing the women in me. She is Mother less more a friend to me. A friend who’s always guided me in the right direction, who’s wondered along when I lost track, who’s always been welcoming no-matter how many times I’ve left, who’s always been there when I needed her-even when I thought I didn’t…She who’s never enforced her rules on me, instead has allowed me to learn from my mistakes.She,whom I’ve less expressed my affection towards as much as I’ve poured my discomforts and dislikes, don’t know why sometimes nearness makes it harder to express things we want to. Words find no voice and despite the willingness we fail; I wonder why that happens.Why end up sounding critical, when in fact wanted to show gratitude? Why so hard to utter those simple words that convey acceptance? Why withhold the positive emotion when there’s plenty amore? Why do we often miss to see what we have and nag over things that we don’t?
Luckily! When it comes to Mothering, “There’s less expectation and more an acceptance”.
