My mother smells like softness, dewey spring mornings; flowers blossoming into life and rainfall after a dry season. I am reborn in her company, her presence alone strengthens my roots.
My mothers laughter rumbles like clouds on a journey; drifting partly on Earth but closer to heaven. I think of forgiveness when she smiles. I think of heavens and angels and gardens beneath which rivers flow.
My mother is home. She is peace and stillness and balance. She is more than any of the words I have to offer; more than any metaphor. I will never love another being more. Want for a being more.