Karolina Ciengiel
Tired from every-day strains of life. Caught up in the daily swirl of „must dos” and „must gos”.
Yet so well-organized. Streetwise. Always knowing whom to ask and how to remedy the pain.
Are All My Mothers.
Sociable and outgoing. Laughing from the inside of their motherly bellies. Imperfect, scarred with stretch marks bearing the history of the their lives and others’.
Smoking, drinking wine, having fun. Sharing in the good and bad. Joy mixed with sorrow. Still playful.
Are All My Mothers.
Smithered with the scent of fatty pancakes, instant spaghetti sauce I now make for my children. Warm coke for the stomachache. Sharp needles for splinters. Each of them with their own tools to make a small life better. Less painful. Hugging, blowing on the boo-boo and the miseries of life.
Are All My Mothers.
Sad and lonely. Hearts pierced with the feeling of being unworthy, not enough. Unappreciated. Burdened with society’s cruel expectations and families’ „transgenerational traumas”, as they call them. Longing for a peace of mind. And soul.
Are All My Mothers.
Brave. So unbelieveably brave. Utterly courageous to get up every day and face each new dawn. I admire them. For who they are. With all their flaws, so beautifully shaped within them. A curious motherly eye will see them, will cherish them. I am grateful.
To All My Mothers.
To My Mum.
To My Grandmum.
And all the other Mothers I am blessed to enjoy this ride with.
Moje Bio:
Matka, nauczycielka, tłumaczka. Kocham uczyć młodych ludzi i uczyć się od nich. W wolnym czasie czytam, oglądam, ćwiczę, podróżuję i zachwycam się światem.
