My mother's arms stretched out, welcoming me, and her smile was goodness, gentleness and caring. She knew everything I'd been through and her eyes said that she understood my pain and my fear.
Mama was here, waiting for me to run to her, waiting for me to throw myself into her arms, longing to lift me up and lead me away to a place of peace and tranquility and love again.
Her voice resonated down the years, memory become wondrous reality: My lovely boy, come to me.
Yes mama. Please mama.
All I had to do was run to her.