I saw this on Facebook today on Mother's Day. It is by an unknown writer:
“Your mother is always with you. She’s the whisper
of the leaves as you walk down the street. She’s the smell of certain foods you
remember, flowers you pick, the fragrance of life itself. She’s the cool hand
on your brow when you’re not feeling well. She’s the breath in the air on a
cold winter’s day. She is the sound of rain that lulls you to sleep and the
colors of a rainbow. She is Christmas morning. Your mother lives inside your
laughter. She’s the place you came from, your first home, and she’s the map you
follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even
your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you—not time, not space…not
even death.”
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