2019: Ninety-Three

Today I’ve discovered that my mother has once again begun to write poetry – and I’m really happy about this. See, my mother has the gift of the gab. Her storytelling ability and her creativity is something that runs in her blood. If she’s free, it’s pretty much a guarantee that she’ll start something to immerse herself into creatively. But she hasn’t written poetry for a very long time, so it’s absolutely lovely to see her back in the thick of things.

The first time I read something my mother had written – properly, was when I spotted this recipe book that she had at home. With red thick binding, the recipe book has “Lekha” on the cover, and is in such good condition that none of the pages are torn, although they’re incredibly faded. They contain some ridiculously mouth-watering recipes, and the instructions are written to make you imagine what you’re going to eat, and visualize it. I ended up hungry every time I read that book.

My mum’s poetry is something I’m looking forward to reading. More than anything because she’s really good at rhyming words. And honestly, that’s the most fun to read.

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