By A few years ago, I was working in a bakery when I noticed a woman standing in the kitchen.
She had her head bowed and was wearing a dark jacket and dark pants.
She was wearing an earrings necklace, a red dress and dark shoes.
The woman looked me in the eye, as if to say: “I’m your friend.”
“Why do you need to be my friend?”
I asked.
“Because you’re a lovely person.”
It was the first time I had heard this from a stranger.
I looked at her in awe, as though I were looking into a mirror.
What a beautiful thing she was saying.
But then, I realised that the woman in the bakery was in fact my mother, and the words my mother had spoken to me just a few days earlier were not the same.
I was living a life of loneliness.
I needed my mother’s support to cope with the isolation that was my life.
She’s a very kind person.
But that support came in the form of a coffee mug, so I didn’t have to ask for it.
I just smiled and thanked her for her kindness.
It felt good.
I have a soft spot for the kind people who help others.
I am lucky to have had a very loving mother and a wonderful sister, and I never feel lonely.
I often wonder how my mother would feel if she had a family of her own.
But there’s one thing that really stands out to me: she would be the first person to help me with a problem.
As a child, my mother and I would share a bed, and when we were older, we would share the same room.
We were always there to help each other.
We even made a big deal out of it, but I don’t remember ever saying to her: “You should never go out with your girlfriend.
She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
What I do remember is that she would always help me.
“You’re not going to have a girlfriend,” she would say.
“There’s no point in having one.”
“I’ve had a boyfriend!” she would tell me.
She would tell this to her husband, who would then tell me: “What about your sister?”
And so on.
It was very important for me to get my mother to help with my problems.
“What are you talking about?”
I would ask.
“Are you sure?” she would reply. I don
