Nobody’s Child | Rose & Almond French Madeleine

This Mother’s day I was rather melancholic and brooding over things I do not have anymore. The futility of human nature is we always sought anchorage from a ship which is already drifted afar.

Its been so many years since I lost my mother but her absence still haunts me.I am yet to see her face in my dreams. I always see the same dream that I am praying and when I open my eyes I see my mom sitting in front of me but when I call out her name she is gone.I still yearn to see her face once in my dreams and not through the memoirs that we have at home. Silly how I am creating these photographic journal of my recipes which give no actual taste to the mouth but only a visual treat. Ideally you always need a touch, a hand and a cuddle.

A song learnt way back in school always remained very close to my heart.

I’m nobody’s child, I’m nobody’s child
I’m like a flower just growing wild
There’s no mommy’s kisses and no daddy’s smiles
Nobody wants me I’m nobody’s child

I was slowly passin’ an orphan’s home one day
And stop there for a moment just to watch the children play
Alone a boy was standin’ and when I asked him why
He turned his eyes that couldn’t see and he began to cry

People come for children and take them for their own
But they all seem to pass me by and leave me all alone
I know they’d like to take me but when they see that I’m blind
They always take some other child and I’m left behind

I’m nobody’s child, I’m nobody’s child
I’m like a flower just growing wild
There’s no mommy’s kisses and no daddy’s smiles
Nobody wants me I’m nobody’s child

No mother’s arms to hold me or soothe me when I cry
Sometimes it gets so lonely here, I wish I could die
I walk the streets of heaven where all the blinds can see
And just like for the other kids there’d be a home for me
No mommy’s kisses and no daddy’s smiles
Nobody wants me I’m nobody’s child

Having a mother is a treasure and value it to eternity to every reader who reads this post.You have children and you grow apart from your parents forget the beautiful hands which got you here.A two minute call or a quick visit is far more important than your client meetings and weekend hangouts. I can’t do it anymore so I leave a message for you to do so. My daughter gifts me this beautiful finger painting card which she made at school for Mother’s day and lands a quick peck on my cheek.

My dirty little fingerprints

I’ve left on every wall,

And on the drawers ad table tops.

I’ve really marked them all.

But here is one thats won’t rub off.

I’m giving it to you.

Because I’m thankful for a mother just like you!

My mother always baked these for our evening snacks as we came back all hungry. She gave it to us with a glass of milk.I so love those memories.So I wanted to bake these for my little one.I always considered them mini biscuits which taste like cake but they are originally small scallop shaped sponge cakes from Commercy and Liverdun, two communes of the Lorraine region in northeastern France.