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I see now that she kept us all together like beads upon one string, both large and small, the multi colored necklace of her years.

We were all precious to her fingers whether of glass or gold. In us she held her sum of laughter, love and tears.

And loving her, we understood each other in dim awareness of the pattern wrought. By her, our mother – that slender thread unseen, yet found us one unto another with pride of heritage. Must we be caught less closely now- when she we loved is dead? Anon

Niemand wat n goeie moeder gehad het, is ooit regtig arm nie.

C. J. Langenhoven

Mag hierdie moedersdag vir jou spesiaal wees!

Groete. Korkie Erlank


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