Today my mother asked if I was feeling lonely.

I hesitated debating if I should let such vulnerability slip between my lips.

But despite my hesitation, I was.

“I get it.” She replied with a tender hand and for a split second I doubted that she truly did.

But just as quickly as the doubt had come, it vanished from my mind.

I did not doubt that she understood my loneliness, for i’ve seen a glimpse of hers.

I’ve bathed in her hearts hollow tears as her trembling body betrayed her strength.

I’ve seen it in the soft grey waves of her eyes as she was immersed in a crowd of familiar faces.

I’ve even heard it in the wind-chime tones of her voice when she calls at 11am to see what I’m doing even though she already knows.

I see her loneliness gazing back at me everyday when I look in the mirror, and I’m comforted by the thought that if we are together in loneliness then we are never truly alone.