Declaration of Independence
“What is a mother to a child?”
Mother is everything.
The Earth, the Sun, the Moon, what worth do they hold?
Irrelevant, – for there is already a word that fills up all space – that word is Mother.
Mother – Mother is larger than life itself.
I watch the little boy play.
I watch him happily bouncing around on the grass, making faces, babbling to himself. Blissfully he plays.
He knows of only one sorrow in life and as his eyes make another sweep of the grounds around him, he knows that there is no need for worry – Mother is right there.
Once – we were that child.
That child that knows the warm embrace of a motherly bosom, is comforted by the voice that soothes any pain, and followed by the gaze that oversees every moment.
That child knew the scolding, the demanding - oh the never ending demanding. Better, higher, faster, more and more and more. Try your best, and don’t give up.
And yet that child was always met with the ear that waited to hear any sorrow, the hand that waited to dry any tear, and the words that erased every fear.
Mother, what happened?
Photographs, slightly worn and faded – moments flash by: laughing people, a little toddler splashing in the lake, a stroller in the September rain, a little brother in a big sister’s arms, a sandy beach, a crowded dinner table.
In each of them, at the very center, the grand maestro directs her orchestra.
She plays every part if necessary, but none can fill her place.
Mother, I have tried so hard. I swear I have tried my best. And I thought that I could fix this.
Mother, forgive me. I must have let you down. Did I not play my part?
Mother. You taught me I need to be strong; you taught me I need to strive to fulfill my potential. Good is not enough if you can be better. But Mother – I can’t make you better.
Why didn’t you teach me how to let go? Oh Mother. Why didn’t you teach me that sometimes being strong is not enough? Mother, I’m tired. I can’t turn the tide.
Mother, I can’t anymore. Mother. No more.