Reposting this for mothers day. Cheers to all moms and everyone who’s had a mother!
Conversation after my mother read my first novel:
Me: So, what did you think?
Mom: I don’t like the mother. She made me feel bad.
Me: Not all mothers are you, mom.
Mom: I hope not. The mothers in your stories are always a bit rough around the edges.
Me: Did it ever occur to you that I’m a mother, too? The mother in my story could be me, right?
Mom: I guess so.
(…loaded silence…)
Me: All my characters are reflections of me, mom. The young men, the old women, the antagonists, the side characters, they’re all me. Me, me, me.
Mom: If you say so.
(a few days later, on the phone)
Me: Okay then. The mothers are you and me and all mothers mixed together. It’s a subconscious thing, archetypes that keep crawling in from my dreams. I can’t help it. Okay?
Mom: Okay, I think I…
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girl in the hat 
Motherhood is such a marvelous and vast subject that it can’t help but embrace all people, all things, all subjects, all countries. It’s difficult to describe; even though at some point we have all had mothers and even though some of us are mothers – motherhood sometimes defies a proper illustration.
I loved your original post – rich in metaphor and fearless thoughts.
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