MOTHER Today, while it played some domestic tasks, I was conjeturando on the cycles of our life. It has some years behind, with my small children, I still I felt myself very unsafe in the mother paper, because until there, only what I wise person was to be son. Until it found strange very when they called me to the children mother. – Mother! But where she was the mother? She seems that this was not my paper. She will be that my mother if felt thus some day? Therefore since I knew that it, it already was eternalized in its paper of mother. Today, with my grown children, already I got used with the mother place. I concluded that they are the children who acquire knowledge in them of this, with that insistence in calling in them mother, with the constant requirements of our attention, they shelter in them to play the mother role and suddenly in we give account to them that we are in feeling ' ' the Me' '. Such which age our mother, with all the patience and overload that this function in subjects.

Only of the one pontadinha of unreliability when thinking, now that mine children are young, I are one of the strong columns of the home, are heard, obeyed, I that I have the reins of the situation, at last, are the main personage of my history. But the implacable cycle of the life in them will hit with the reality daqui to some years when to start in only giving secondary papers to them, later will be only figurantes, even definitively taking off in them of scene. Then it will be the time of my son to learn to play the mother role. there, then, will have importance the form as I played my role. If I left good examples when I was mother, if the home that I created had structure enough my offspring to use as model when to create the home of them. I wait that the day that I will be only the souvenir of the Mother, it is good, tender, example