A mothers love

From becoming and from being a mother,
I've learned what love is. I think.

To fall in love, to have a crash, in that first sight.
A love that does not bleach, but grows and grows.
A kaleidoscope of love.

My mother told me about the day I was born.
An early, clear and cold autumn morning.
The low sun, the colours of the autumn were sparkling.
I could both hear and feel her love when she told me.

Yesterday I got an sms from my daughter, who has just joined the army.
She wanted me to write down and send her a lullaby,
the one I used to sing for her when she was a little girl.
I felt that humble love.

Today I got an sms from my son, who studies physiotherapy in Denmark.
He had got the best result on his exam,
and was going to celebrate with a party.
I felt that proud overwhelming love.

And when I arrive home, my youngest child, in her best puberty,
screams that she won't go to her grandparents for dinner. She hates it!
I feel that tender and powerless love.