~ your mother is not only your mother.  she is the daughter of life's longing for herself.  she comes to you but not from you, and though she is with you, yet she belongs not to you.  you may give her your devotion but not your occupations, for she has condcerns of her own.  she housed you in her body and her life, but her life is her own, for she dwells in wilds of her own which you cannot usurp, not even in your dreams.  you may strive to be like her, but seek not to make her like you, for, as you will come to learn, life goes backward and forward and tarries not only with today.  you are the arrow which your mother, as living bow, sends forth.  only the archer sees the marks on the paths of the infintie, and the bow bends with all her might that she and her arrow may go swift and far.  let your own arc from the bow's, and her archer's, hand and heart be for gladness and love, for even as the bow loves the arrow that flies, she loves also the archer that is eternal, and herslef that is, like you, ever-changing.......and, this is equally true of your grandmother/oma, too, by goddess. 

~koreloy wildrekinde~mcwhirter, paraphrased from kahlil gibran