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Mothers Day

8th of March, the international Women’s Day, was an official state holiday in the socialist Yugoslavia. From my childhood, I vaguely remember some adults connotations of the holiday but what I remember very well is that this was Mothers Day for all of us, children. And it stayed like this, Mothers Day, throughout my life.

The deepest feelings come over me when I remember my mother. Call it love, or so I assume, I have no idea, actually, if the term ‘love’ renders into these feelings. I wish I could see her with a poet’s eyes and recount our relationship in a poet’s terms, like Esenin did in a letter-poem to his mother.

My mother’s reactions to my ups and downs were more emphatic than my father’s. And yet, she was rather firm and persistent in her everyday requirements and general moral guidance. She would put forward a clever folk saying, appropriate for a given occasion - and I’m sure some of them she invented herself or at least refurbished. Like, when I made a long face on her request to do some work on our farm before going to school: "What eyes are afraid of, hands will do."

ON THE RIGHT: the last photo of my mother, June 1976; already terminally ill, she was still helping us with our five-months old daughter.

ROLLOVER: my parents wedding photo.

my mother

 2011-03-06 

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