The Restory Retreat Centre

My mother's tiny art work. Photo by Matilda Mother’s Day in South Africa. This morning, being a mother and all, I granted myself an extra half an hour of lying in bed. I lay thinking about my children, all three of them more than a four hours’ drive from us. I felt like thanking them for being the ones to bring me to motherhood. I left it at that, knowing that they will all call during the day and make this a special day, even though we have never gone overboard with this kind of commemoration. I then opened my journal as I do most every morning. From between the pages and into my lap fell a tiny artwork. A small cameo of lacey leaves and flowers set into a small card. The artist: my mother. How did it get there? I honestly cannot remember putting it there. Maybe during the move it had surfaced somewhere and needed to be kept safe in order to later add it to the collection I have of my mother’s art work. The synchronicity of it though made me sit up and take notice. Since she...