The first woman you ever saw was your mother
I’d like to tell you a story about a little boy. The very first woman he ever saw in his whole life was when he was a child and he saw his mother. She was a young woman at that time. She must have been 20.
The first woman he ever saw in the whole world— there she was. All of 20 years old, telling him that the world was this positive place that was full of adventures and joy and puppy dogs.
She was lying through her teeth.
The world was not a positive place— her boyfriend, the boy’s father had just abandoned them— but she was giving his young mind an impression of the world— one that welcomed him. The first woman he ever met lied to him and made him believe that everything in his life was going to be sunny and positive and full of joy and that the world was this place that was going to welcome him and give him opportunities.
She had to do that. She had to lie.
She. Was. His. Mother.
That’s what mothers do. They make the best out of the worst.
They take lemons, juice them, add some sugar and make tequila.
