only from a distance.

‘Something only a mother could love.’ The phrase conjures up images of baby orang-utans, teenage hoodlums, repugnant monsters.

It does suggest that a mother’s love is blind, oblivious to chara-cter disorders, to ugliness and failings; when in reality it is the other way round: maternal love is extraordinarily perceptive.

When a mother looks upon her children, she sees not only what they are, but also what they may become. In her eyes, potential exceeds limitations.

She is aware of the best in each one even when it’s not apparent. Her interpretations are kind, generous to a fault, always giving the benefit of the doubt. It says a lot about human nature that, more often than not, she’s proved right.

Provided she is no stranger to warm and selfless feelings, a mother will love her children for all that is contained within them, or even, at times, in spite of it; remaining constant even in the worst scenarios.

When a child has contrived to destroy anything in it worthy of affection, its mother, with deep regret, will continue to love it, partly for what it was, partly for what it might have been.

At the age of seventy, my mother was badly injured in a motor accident. I was reached by a message that she was on life support; both her legs were to be amputated.

“The poor woman,” said my well-meaning neighbour. “Wouldn’t it be better if she was just left to die ”

Before her last operation, she was able to talk to me. “I don’t know what I’m fighting for,”she said. “What sort of life do I have to look forward to, even if I do survive ”

“That’s for you to decide,” I answered. “Only you can tell whether life in a wheel-chair would still be worth living.”

She thought for a while about this, and then she stated: “What I value most is having my children. Follow you as you grow older; see how your lives develop. Be there for you when you need me.”

She survived. She recovered. Today, many years later, she lives alone, in an adapted flat, where her daily routine is much the same as usual. Except, amazingly, she’s happier than before: enjoying a late blossoming.

With brand new friendships and interests to sustain her, she depends on no one; her life is her own.

But now and then she remembers that critical moment, when a mother’s love for her children made all the difference.