By PJ Holliday
“The mother is glass through which
You see, in excruciating detail, yourself.”
“The Mother” – Maggie Smith
Becoming a mother has divided my body in portions, passing out small pieces at a time to my child, husband and self. I’ve been stretched to a capacity I formerly did not think possible and from there, have to learn to surrender my control of the unknown. I don’t recognize myself, and when I catch a glimpse of what was familiar, it vanishes like pools of water on hot asphalt. When I try to write, I am torn between comforting my child whose eyes are fixated on whatever I am doing. I try to catch some work between naps, but who wants to work when there is a moment for quiet reflection made available for the first time in the morning. I feel the pull of many children, my creative explorations and my boy, who undoubtedly should take precedent. Continue Reading…