In a Picture.
The picture was faded and worn with time. My eyes strained looking over the length of paper. That was my mother alright. It was several days before her wedding and in the depth of my mind I could still hear her voice retelling me the memories of those days.
My mother was beautiful. She was the embodiement of youth in the picture. Her smile was bright and alive and her eyes still resonated with the dreams and hopes that all young spirits have at such an early age. Yet, there was something more within the picture. Perhaps it was missed by all whom had seen this picture previously because they did not share the relantioship I shared with her. Perhaps it was because as a son I am blinded to any other role she could play except as my mother.
There within that picture I saw not only a young lady within the spring of her life but I saw the only woman that truly loved me. I saw my mother that I missed more with every day with her passing.
I felt alone these days without her love or guidance.
I began to cry.