The collection of Mothers.

My name is Melanie and I collect Mother’s everywhere I go.

I wish you could step into my shoes and see into my head. This swinging contridiction of obstinatly independent female to the vulnerable lonely soul.

A daughter longing only for her Mother. The one to argue and make up. To sit and have tea with and talk about boys with. To share the look when the men n our lives have done something that we only can just understand. Someone to love me always for just who I am. A mother to dream for me, and with me. The one to hold my hand when I need her the most and to stand back and watch me fly. The woman who will always be on my side – by my side cheering, encouraging, nurturing. A women to show me what it means to be a Lady.
I’m sorry I loose patience with you. I’m sorry you’ve broken my heart. I’m sorry Jam and egg sndwhiches with tea in the morning,  cross stich, and having sock fights have started to fade under the years of heart ache. I’m sorry you’re lost and I can’t see you anymore. This women I must call "Mother" is just a sad shadow and it breaks my heart all over again.

Because I know that if things were different. If you would have made the choices I NEEDED you to make – you would have been there 2 weeks ago.