They say all little girls dream of being mothers. I don’t know how true that statement is, but I remember consciously planning my motherhood when I was about ten years old.
I was going to marry a cricket fast bowler and we were going to have four children. I was going to play outside barefoot with my children. I was going to plait my daughters’ hair in three, triangle-parted just like my mother did mine. We were going to go to the beach every Sunday and eat mango ice cream. Our life would be perfect.
I didn’t marry a cricket player and I didn’t have four children. Three seemed plenty. We did play and eat ice cream and I did plait my daughters’ hair and I loved being a mother as much as I love being a writer, and I miss mothering young children.
As I think about being a mother this year, this is my offering.