If I were a great man…
If I were a great man, the woman standing behind me would surely be my mother.
As one goes through life, one inevitably takes some things for granted; friends, for example. It’s all too easy to fall into the trap of “me, me, me” without even realising it.
Conversations are the first indication of decay. How often, while conversing with friends, one feigns or even takes an active interest in what they are saying but all the while desperately teasing the conversation back to oneself. As their words tap on your ear drums, the coin of your thoughts slip clumsily between the fingers of your consciousness waiting to be tossed into the limelight.
Other times you find yourself wondering why your friends aren’t doing more for you like returning your favours or turning up on time, if at all. But then why should they? What is it to be friends anyway?
But more often than not, we neglect our family. It is a matter of abuse really; we know we take them for granted but we do it anyway. We go to family events because it’s an obligation but we see our friends for pleasure, most of the time. We fly into a fit of fury at the drop of a hat, about the smallest things. The kind of emotion we would never think of dispensing to friends, unless we really meant it.
On the other side of the coin, the family silently offers up relentless support. Making you food or doing your laundry, or perhaps just offering company. The unspoken duty diligently kept, in most cases, but often without thanks or acknowledgement. If anything, the more that’s done the less it is appreciated. Funny that.
Anyway, long story short, my mother is quite spectacular.
