The first was the mother who carried me here, gave birth and nurtured and launched of career. She was the one whose features I bear, complete with the facial expressions I wear. She gave me music which follows me yet, along with examples in life that she set.
Then as I got older, she some younger grew, and we'd laugh as just mothers and daughters can do. But then came the year that her mind clouded so, and I sensed that the mother I'd known soon would go. So quickly she changed and turned to the other, a stranger who dressed in the clothes of my mother.
Oh she looked the same, at least at arm's length, but she was the child now and I was her strength.
We'd come full circle we women of three, my mother the first, the second and me.
And now if my own children should come to a day, when a new mother comes, and the old one goes away. I'd ask of them nothing that I didn't do. Love both your mothers as both have loved you.
