Have you ever really looked at your mother?
Not wishing to sound like a bad poem in a mothers day
card, but i imagine its inevitable.
There was something beautiful about my mum this week,
perhaps i saw her real character, the courage despite
a life of frailty.
Perhaps i was tired and emotional.
It made me think how dismissive one can be of a
familiar person. You reach a point where a face is
nothing more than the image of it that you created.
Your initial impression is the benchmark for how you
see someone forever.
Its a slightly hollywood concept, i envisage a tasty
leading man recollecting his meeting with his lover
and saying;
"and that night i saw her, really for the first
time."
Ok so i am going off on one slightly, and there is
nothing Belle and Sebastian in this recitation.
Still relevant.
Josephine xx
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