I remember the day my mother told me of her childhood,
a naughty sparkle in her eyes.
And I travelled far off lands with her,
and we danced and sang and played with our dolls,
and stole berries from her neighbour,
and then ran off hand in hand.
And that day I saw a different side,
so different from the one that cooked and cleaned and fussed and scolded,
and I saw my mother's inner child.
I remember the day my mother told me of her childhood,
and will remember it all my life.
