There is a woman who moves like mum.She is around the same age, same build, same height.
She has the same mannerisms.
The same physical movements.
Her speech,
The way she sits,
The way she fixes her hair,
Chooses her clothes, jewelry.
I watch her from afar,
I watch her when I'm close.
She is happy, just like when mum was happy.
[Which wasn't often as mum had a very damaged spirit]
When she talks to me, I'm comforted by the way she sounds.
Sometimes, when I'm around her, i briefly close my eyes and i imagine laying my head in mums lap, and having her stroke my hair, the way she used to.
She has no idea that i even notice her.
But I love to hear her talk and watch her.
She moves just like mum.
But she isn't.
Mum is gone.
Gone.
