Dear Mother,

I like to think of you as the essence of a collective consciousness. A collective consciousness of mothers, daughters, and sisters. A warm oasis of compassion, love and understanding. Our only solace against an otherwise misogynistic “man’s world”. A light in the dark. My last hope.

I stopped drinking some days ago. Last night I poured my last bottle of wine down the toilet. I wonder if you would be proud of me.

If I reach down deep, I can still see and hear the child in me, a quiet voice that whispers

‘mommy, do you love me?’