Our first thoughts were given to us by our mother. All the other thoughts, which we encountered in our life, were colored with the paradigm of our original thoughts, implanted in our hearts by our mothers. These thoughts could have been soaked into us, while she cooked or she baked cookies for us. Her smile was our strength. We did not judge her. She was the authority of our life. She was our first living romance.
Our romance began from her looks. We don't know what made us enchanted or fearful. We do know one thing: we loved our mother. We depended upon her judgment. She was our security.
The love of mother is not that easy to comprehend. The mother is with us all the time. She is not ever absent. She is the ghost that we cannot ever exorcise. She is our being. She is our temperament, no matter how much we want to run away from it.
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