From dreams we learn to love

 


Throughout the 30 years of my existence, I never knew my mother.

The first time I heard her voice was also the last. “I’m sorry,” she whispered over the long-distance phone call. Days later, she died.

Space and years of separation between us took forever to cover. In the little village where she was buried, six feet down and worlds apart now, the chasm between us widened irrevocably.

That made me cry even harder for a woman I would now never have a chance to know.

(An excerpt from a work in progress)

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