Our family’s celebration of Mother’s Day in an Italian restaurant.
Your Mother is always with you. She’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered shirt. She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you are not well.
Your Mother lives inside your laughter. She’s crystallized in every teardrop that you shed. She’s the place you came from, your first home. She’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love and your first friend.
And nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space, … not even death. (Author: Unknown)