Thursday, May 01, 2008


Your mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she's the smell of bleach in your freshly
laundered socks, she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well.
Your mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every
tear drop. She's the place you came from, your first home; and she's
the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love and
your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you. Not
time... not space... not even death.

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