Some wonderful white roses are growing on the wall of my compound.The sight of it gives me a warm feeling because it reminds me of my mother's garden and her favourite white gardineas which she so lovingly tends.All my childhood I have watched my mother tenderly nurture and spend time with her flowers as she has done with me.I remember coming back home for the holidays from the boarding school.She used to follow the car headlights all the way through the hilly terrains till it entered our compound.The first thing i did was to jump from the car and run all the way to where my mother would be standing and go and wrap my arms around my mothers tummy that was all I could manage given the height,my mother not being a very demonstrative mom used to pat me in the head .She was nothing short of strict.She was the discipline monger in the family but always had something up her sleeve.She was always challenging us,disciplining us and keeping us interested in whatever we had at hand and yet she always respected our decisions in whatever we chose to do .That must be the reason that all of her kids consider her to be their best friends even now and I never can recall a time when we outgrew her.The older we became our friendship grew.I always associate all pretty things with my mother because she had an eye for beauty.A twist of hand and a few shufflings here and there and the flower arrangements in the room used to lift the the ro0m to no end.She had a green hand.
Now so many years later I watch my elder sister tend her plants,show flashes of brilliance in interior designing, cope with her nine year old and I think what a wonderful mother she is ,then I realise that she is but a replica of that mother of mine.
Now so many years later I watch my elder sister tend her plants,show flashes of brilliance in interior designing, cope with her nine year old and I think what a wonderful mother she is ,then I realise that she is but a replica of that mother of mine.
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