My Mothers Eyes are Volumes 1

Recently, I've found myself missing my mother more and more. I haven't seen her since 2008 and circumstances prevent us from doing the travelling but believe me if I could I would and I know its the same for her. We compensate by calling every week but there's nothing like being able to just cuddle into her stomach like I used to do when I was a child, or to eat her food and smile into her face. Its nothing like smelling her skin as she hugs me tight, especially if I've been crying or just hearing the tinkle in her voice as she laughs.
My mum rarely laughs now and it makes me so sad. I wish I could make her happy, my mother with the beautiful eyes and I know one day she'll peal with joy again, by God's grace she will laugh again.

First published in April 2007 the 14th...

Recently I've been watching Gina Yashere's presentations on video as the Nigerian mother Mrs Omokerede and it is fascinating that so many people said she reminded them of their mum. I'll be seeing my mum in a couple of weeks and while I'm excited, I also tremble, its amazing how fast we revert back to being a child once our parents show up, no matter how successful or grown up we've become.


I look forward to those special meals that is my mum's way of saying 'I love you ' and 'sorry' (plenty of arguments there) and those audible 'humph' to tell me she doesn't approve of my latest hairstyle/dress/guy. And yet I dread them , because I know I'll be a child again, and I don't want to be a child, I want to be grown up yet grown up life is so hard and being with my mammy (can you believe that!?) would so make it seem all better.

Yet sometimes when I talk to her, I realise that slowly but surely, my mum is becoming the child, she's slower, less energetic, a lot more forgetful, smaller in size somehow and she asks for my opinion more, sort of looks up to me and I'm frightened , because it means , I'm becoming an adult and will one day be someone's mammy and one day she'll depend on me just as I have depended on her and will I be worthy, can I take care of her as she has of me?

Have I learnt enough off her to teach any child of mine? Will I be as good a parent as she has? Can I face the things that she has for me?

I think of this and I want to capture the moments , the moments when I am a child, her child and enjoy them and when the time comes for her to be my 'child' (hopefully a long time away to come) she'll have a wonderful time too. So this is for my mum, a poem I wrote for her.

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes are eyes of water
They pour and gush cleansing streams over me

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes are eyes of sunlight
They banish afar the shadows that lurk within me

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes are eyes of air
They blow a breeze of comfort to my wandering soul

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes are eyes of rain
They cascade down and quench my thirsty spirit

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes are eyes of fire
They ignite and flash with passion at my pain and issues

Have you seen my mother's eyes?

My mother's eyes, her eyes are eyes
of love, of pain, of wisdom, of a sage

You should see my mother's eyes!