Mother Hen

Mother Hen

Below I see my shadow on the wooden floor, cast form the summer
sunshine.
My body glows with warmth as bright as the sun that sets upon me.
I feel a sharp, instant chill, as I take the next bite of my fruity
ice-pop. This combination in temperature is like a familiar memory that
appears to me every summer.

Each day I watch from my window as the mother's collect their children
from school.
Singled out from the crowd, my attention is drawn to the troubled eyes
of one particular mother.
Eyes bitter cold, like frozen ice crystals but without the sparkle. No
emotion but worry and the pressure of life pasted to her face like a
mask. Not a single solitary smile, and not one single solitary hair
from her eyebrow is raised from the permanent frown that they lye
in.

Skipping around her like newborn lambs, are her beautiful children, so
full of life. Their eyes dance with happiness, but not directed towards
their mother.
I observe her body language, her facial expressions, and I ask myself.
Is she struggling with life's mishaps, the difficulties of being a
parent, or is she simply an old mother hen?

Not a kind tone of voice or a pleasant word she speaks. By judging by
the children's non-surprised reaction, I feel that they are immune to
this.
Is this mother this way only with her children, hence, is she
experiencing difficulties in motherhood, I think no, for I see this
behaviour in her social life too.

The presence of a father, a male figure is non-existent. But what's
this I see before me. Miracles do happen.

Their pace slow, mother and daughter there they go. The little one has
hair of fire like her mother's. An image enters my mind, so I ask this
of you. Visualise an open fire. Mother's hair is similar to the tip of
the flames, much more faded than the orange glow of the burning embers
that resembles her child.
But what attracts and astounds me to this pair this time, is how the
mother interacts with her daughter. Her manner is kind and she speaks
pleasant words. What I find most shocking is seeing the mother lifting
her hand, not to point the finger, but to stroke the hair that lye's
over the daughter's face, and set it behind her delicate little ear.
And, that's not all. Not a twisted bitter expression I so often see,
but a subtle and soft smile. As her arm sways down by her hip, her hand
gradually rises only to place the daughter's hand in hers.

What an astounding breakthrough. It just takes one look to see the need
for love and guidance this little girl is expressing. Her eyes beg for
more of mother's affection.

I ask myself why. Why after so long does this mother choose now to show
love towards her daughter? Has something positively wonderful entered
her life, or has she realised just how much her children need and want
her in their lives?
It is so beautiful to see a glimmer of happiness and contentment in
both their eyes. This positive and loving interaction is something she
needs a little more practice on, don't you think?