Mother's birthday today. At least it would have been if she were still alive.
I remember how we used to make her breakfast in bed: egg on toast, large mug of tea, and a flower from the garden. It was the only day of the year when she was not up at the crack of dawn, preparing breakfast and packed lunches for the rest of us. She was also the last to go to bed and didn't really seem to rest in between.
My enduring memory is of her standing in the kitchen wearing an apron, big welcoming smile on her face, smothering hugs, an ever present ear in times of trouble, the anchor of our household. We all loved her immensely.
Happy birthday, Mummy, wherever you are. I miss you. You had such hopes for me, your bright little engineering student, but look what's become of me. I hope you're not too disappointed.
