1979-2006

She thinks she loves me the most, because of how I looked at her when I was born. I had big blue eyes, bluer than they are now. And as she held me, I looked into her eyes searchingly, besotted, tranfixed. I didn't look at dad, I didn't look at the doctors and nurses, or anything else in the room but my mother. I was in love.

My brother was another story. He barely glanced at my mother, he pretty much ignored her actually. He was dazzled by everything else in the room except for her.

My mother's changed now though, we've grown apart. She's not a playful young hippy mother anymore. Now she's conservative, and buys watercolours of flowers, and boats at sea.