I farewelled my mum 19 years ago and as each year passes, I often find a new treasure about her to reflect on.
Let me tell you about a very ordinary moment in my childhood that has anchored me in my own journey as a mum. I'm the fourth child in a family of six children – it was a busy home, you can probably picture it. I was ten years old at the time, obsessed with horses and I had a pony of my own.
I'd spent the day at pony club, riding and grooming my horse – so enthralled I didn’t even stop to eat. I got home tired and hungry and I must have been rude. I don't remember exactly what I did except that I know it was uncalled for and I felt pretty bad about it. I slumped off to my room where I sat sulking and sad (and still hungry).
A little while later my mum knocked on the door and carried in a tray with a plate of egg sandwiches on it. The egg mix had parsley in it and the bread had the crusts cut off. It melted my heart. I dropped my defensiveness and instantly felt reconnected to my mum. The sandwich was made just the way I liked it. The presence of parsley and the absence of crusts told me I was known and seen.