So in my last post I promised that from now on further posts shall remain chirpy… I’ll try keep this one that way but excuse me if I get a tad sentimental 🙂
Those of you who know me, know that 7 months ago I flew from the UK to The Netherlands to be with my Second-Life love. ♥
I don’t regret this in the slightest but if I must admit, there are times where I get so home-sick I spend quite a few hours crying… It hits me more so at night, that’s when the Devil decides it’s good to play with Pinkie’s mind! No cookies for him!
However, it did get me thinking about a new picture, my Mum and I do not have the best relationship any more but I do miss the times where we would just “get on” we’d snuggle for hours and no one was allowed to invade our private space. How I loved her more in her good moods. My thing is that whenever I leave someone, someone I love whether it be to go to the shops or putting down the phone, I have to tell them I love them, it’s vital!… These past 7 months I have spoken to my mum three times… So sadly, for hardly 7 months, no “I love you” or “I love you too” I long to hear her voice at times, her soft little Welsh tone, sadly, it’s not there. I long for her to know how much I love her, after everything.
So Mother of mine, if you ever come across this, I love you! :o)
So, it got me thinking, what is one of the freest insects out there? Yes! Butterflies. I have learned in my time here so far, although I was rather independent before leaving the U.K I have to be more so now. Free like a Butterfly. 🙂 Well I’m 26 next week so, guess I have to mature sometime right? 😛 . I hate being sad, so hopefully, one day soon my mind will be at peace. Wish me luck for that one.
It hangs there on the kitchen wall,
A tattered apron, that is all,
But there is something I recall,
The love when Mother wore it.
From early morn ’till setting sun,
Her work, it seems, was never done,
Us children kept her on the run,
That apron, I adore it.
It tells of when I tried to flee,
When chased by angry bumble bees,
And then my Mother rescued me,
And in the process tore it.
It tells of when I stayed home ill,
With burning fever, then a chill,
And on her apron, tonic spilled,
Because I tried to pour it.
My mother had no fancy clothes,
With satin ribbons, lace or bows,
But in that apron, love she showed,
And we could not ignore it.
And now it hangs upon the wall,
What looked so large, appears so small,
A mem’ry since I learned to crawl,
I know now why she wore it.
by David Ronald Bruce
*Location* – Artilleri