“do you want anything from the shops, son”
“yeah, get me a video”
“what are you, stupid, they haven’t been invented yet”
Just another one of those nonsense stories he’d tell the kids. Unaware that some listened more than others. That words could formally shape an informal future of innovation in the mind of a child. This was ‘one of’ the common threads repeated over, and again, whenever in the company of my father. To be kindred to dear Mothers Day which happens to adorn this day, let’s not talk about Dad’s, innovation, and 50c stories.
When someone is ultimate in their line of work, it can be intimidating, unnerving of sorts. Well, that’s my mother. She was born to be a mother. She even said so herself. For me, when I see such jobs be taken, and delivered in completeness and utter perfection, it leaves me to believe, it would be counterproductive to even try filling such a roll. For I wouldn’t be the sauce that brought everything together, but merely a slice of pickle, trying to survive under a blanket of ham. Most probably trying to escape sandwich life and a future of gastric juices.
The warmth my mother has provided, to not only me, but all in the family, literally and in the most non-fictional way, out warms the sun. It is so warm, in fact, that one has been known to melt in such a presence. It truly is amazing, that the likes of such mothers usually go about with little if any formal gratitude for their existence. Having a day dedicated to such, seems completely forthright and downright-MotherRight.
I love you Mum
Last night, upon returning home from my second night in a row of pizza, there was a grey clump resting on the drive way. Upon closer inspection, it was a dead cat. Dead thing’s don’t stur emotion within me, if anything they bring about huge waves of peace. Whilst taking photo’s of it’s carcass, I did however, allow my mind to drift into a horror story whereby the cat’s head twisted and screamed at me in human…
“I’m a motherrrrr”