I wonder what it would’ve been like from moms’ points of view. Watching your baby fall madly in love with a boy - the look in her eyes, the way she smiled whenever she got a message from him, the sheer happiness radiating from her in all directions. Hearing snippets of late night calls, and shyly whispered ‘I love you’s. Walking into her bedroom one day to see photos of them decorating the walls. Remnants of clumsily made birthday cakes and cookies in the kitchen. Perhaps she had smiled wistfully, remembering nostalgic times of her own. Perhaps she had had a good laugh about it over a glass of wine with her husband.
I wonder if she had also known what would happen afterwards, when the boy eventually stopped loving the girl. I wonder if she would’ve expected the thousands of tears shed behind locked bedroom doors, the endless nights spent on going back over past conversations and looking at photos of them. I wonder if she would’ve expected the pain her daughter would’ve had to go through as her heart was broken for the very first time. And I wonder how she would’ve felt as she saw her daughter mature from the childish beliefs that love really could last forever and ever.