A Mother's Love: Raindrops Falling Gently / Hymns on Tides / Compassion in Spades {I, uh, cheated, but they're all 3 words.. .}
DESCRIBE MY MUSE IN THREE WORDS.
“ Siegbert, I think the limit was three . . ” But there’s no denying the apparent delight and shy sort of happiness that spreads across her face. How like her son, to bestow upon her such kindness. It felt as if no matter the trial each day offered anew, so too were the blessings, everlasting in the presence of her family. The smiles of her sons, the very lights of her life. What greater cause was there than to fight for those beloved? For those who deserved a happy, peaceful future? Soft fingers curl against her bottom lip as Azura represses a laugh; muted to a soft giggle.
“ You make me sound so perfect.. I cannot think of a greater honor than to have my own child view me so kindly. Could any mother ask for more?”
Her gentle, noble Siegbert. So like his Father and yet entirely his own, striving for the same sense of integrity and safety for those he held dear. Yet in his eyes and face there were traces of her own presence, the slight touch of his tone, the way his gaze would avert when flustered, or the graceful way his words would flow with a cadence similar to her own. After observing proper families as only an observer for so long . . to think she would be able to count the similarities of her own sons! To count them not as an observer but a flesh and blood member. Was this true happiness? No pain, no scars? Nothing but a sweet face with traces of her reflected back?
Her hand, small against his own, settles to cup his cheek, cradling it with a love bordering on reverence. Despite not inheriting the gift of song like Shigure, he was no different. The unconditional love and compassion he bestowed upon her was his and his alone, and it saved her, each day. It healed scars she had never thought possible before marriage, before children. It put her dreams into perspective, made them even closer to her heart. Peace was attainable. . peace was necessary for she would allow no other world for her children. Had this been how her own Mother felt? Cradling her beloved child’s face, no differently than Azura did now? Then it was worth every song. Every bit of her blood and the very fibers of her flesh.
She does not remove her hand, instead settling it against curly strands, similar to her own coloring. What better legacy or mark in this world than her own children? Her own family? This contrite, pure-hearted boy who spoke of his mother as if she were a poem to the world? Her own words, while soft, ring heavy with love:
“ I’m glad that I can be such in my son’s eyes. But, I do think most of all, I am a simple mother. Who loves you without end.”
