Small Town

Mothers and daughters.

What I want to do is start a Mothers’ Club, where I can sit with other daughters’ mothers and talk about nothing but my now grown-up daughter. What she did as a little kid, the funny things she said, the warm little arms around my neck, the hot tears I wiped away and the tremulous smile that shone through, tugging at my heart. The little red nose and the cough that tore a hole in my heart. The way she studied, slept , played …and as she grew older, her evident sincerity and intelligence, her sense of humour, the jokes we shared…. her poise and elegance, her emotional maturity, her integrity, her focus and her myriad interests.

Daughters grow up soooo fast! And then they don’t want to hear mothers talk of their childhood years. Come on, ma, my daughter says, all that happened years ago. And what’s so cute or heart tugging about it? All little girls are like that.

All???? No,no. Each little girl is different. Her words and looks and even the way she smiles or cries. And each little girl’s mother has a special place in her heart and mind, bursting with those memories. And there’s hardly anyone to share them with. Again and again and again, I mean.

So what do you say, ladies? We can meet Mondays 2 to 4 pm, the best way to drive away the blues. True, that’s not time enough. So maybe Mondays and Wednesdays? Hmmmm..

Okay. Final – Monday through Sunday, any time you want to drop in. And do bring photographs, those baby frocks you’ve saved, those hand-written stories and poems, and anything else you want to share. I’ll keep the tissues ready.

PS: Yes , yes, amma, you can come too. Though I must say it’s going to be most embarrassing to be witness to tales of my childhood!

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