IYA TEMI
Mother: magnificent offer to harness, enrich and refrain. A mother can words describe her? Can letters paint her? Can life be without her? 'Iya.' A nursery rhyme says it all; who sat and washed my infant head, when sleeping on my cradle bed and tears of sweet affection shed, my mother. That song played a certain tune in my mind as I watched her hold her baby. Hmm! Thoughts flowed through my heart and my mind realized that she had a certain look, maturity; a responsible yet loving adoration for the tiny baby she held in her arms. He was so small and today they called him a name; a name that father, mother, grandfather and grandmother put much thought in and suddenly a craft, a word seemed to hold their hopes, love and dreams –Oluwatimilehin, Anjolaoluwa, Abubakar. I wonder when a mother’s love begins. Is it from the 'yes I am pregnant' or when she brings life into the world? She feeds, lives, sleeps for two. She can’t be selfish, for a life depends on her. She