Tuesday, March 4, 2008

"The Virgin of Paris", Notre Dame, Paris

I remember when my mom would hold my little brother when he was a toddler. How small he was and how I wish that I was that small again so I could curl up into her arms and feel her warmth and love like he got to experience now. She would hold him in one arm and have him resting on her hip, while she would go and do all of her daily routines. She would never put him down. I always offered to take him from her, but she would just give a simple “I’m fine.” So, I let it be. I realized that it was a mother’s nature, and somewhat a chore, to carry around their bundle of joy and love around with them, even if they were doing other things. Sometimes, I would just catch myself, observing their reactions towards each other and the burst of love that anyone could just feel between them.
I continue to watch their reactions with each other throughout the day and, when my brother pulls her hair, she does not get frustrated or yell at him. She will just look at him and smile because she knows that he is only playing around and not meaning to be fresh. Then, my brother will go on and babble with emotions as no one understands him, but his mother. She will respond with an “Oh really?” or a “Yeah I know!” I can’t help but laugh at this because I don’t understand, but they understand each other and that’s all that really matters.
A mother’s love for their child is like no other kind of love. It’s just pure and real. There are no questions about it. Nor is there an explanation for it. I have asked my mom time and time again about a mother’s love for her children and she will stand there for a moment and just respond with something along the lines of how there is no other kind of love. And how you can’t love anybody more than your children. Maybe this type of love can’t be explained until someone experiences it. It’s just something that you can not explain with observing.
So, love isn’t always just between a man and a women. As I learned and observe, it can be the simplest thing of between a mother and her treasured son.

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