A mother is a funny thing.
We have all had one at one point or another.
Some more than one, some still none to speak of.
Like Mother like Daughter, Mum's the word, and Mother knows best.
I love my Mum, and for her sins my Mum loves me, but this isn't always the case, not for everyone.
It's a huge and unique and significant relationship that sometimes just isn't, just doesn't, just can't, or just won't.
And that's ok too.
See Mums are wonderful things, but sometimes the absence of one breeds even more wonderful things. As daughters, as sons, as children, we build upwards from the roots of our Mums, but when that rooting is unearthed or dislodged in the storm we can still flourish, still blossom and bear fruit, either because or in spite of all that has gone before us.
I know how lucky I am to know my Mother, to have her in my life, and to still be able to retreat home for that most restorative of things, a proper cwtch from Mum, at any time.
I count my blessings that I have a Mum from whom I have learned, and continue to learn, so much about the kind of woman I want to be, and the kind of person I choose to be every day, and a Mum whose strength and dignity in the face of adversity is more inspiring to me than I can ever hope to express, and than she may ever fully know.
So yes, a mother is a funny thing, but today of all days I recognise how privileged and grateful I am to have mine, and the love I have for her is mirrored in the bittersweet joy, reflection and just plain sadness that today yields for so many, because a mother's love is enough to share, and I just simply wasn't raised to be selfish.