Daughter Maya Angelou on Her Mother

"'I think you're the greatest woman I've ever met.' She said, 'There is of course Eleanor Roosevelt, Mary McLeod Bethune, and my mother. But you're in that category.'"--Vivian Baxter Johnson to her daughter Maya Angelou

American poet and autobiographer Maya Angelou, Marguerite Ann Johnson in real life, talks to Dianne Sawyer of ABC News about her mother and her new book of poems Mother: A Cradle to Hold Me.

"Yes. It is true. I was created in you," she read from the book. "It is also true that you were created for me. I own your voice. It was shaped and tuned to sooth me. Your arms were molded into a cradle to hold me, to rock me. The scent of your body was the air perfumed for me to breathe."

Angelou said a mother did not indulge but loved unconditionally in the deepest possible of ways.

"Love may be the matter that keeps the stars in the firmament. It may be. Love allows you to be tough and tender," she said. "Love. It does not say you can get away with this and I'll turn my -- because you're so cute -- I'll turn my back, to something that may harm you later on. No. Love affords you the ability to be courageous."

In the book that made her famous, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," Angelou wrote, "My mother's beauty literally assailed me. Her smile widened her mouth beyond her cheeks, beyond her years, and seemingly through the walls to the street outside."

Her mother, she said, was her everything.

Isn't that a nice tribute to a mother? I read the book and found it heartwarming. I cried many times throughout the book, thinking that I should have said this to my mother, or that I am hearing this from my daughter. Here's my favorite part:

Mother I have learned enough now
To know I have learned nearly nothing.
On this day
When mothers are being honored,
Let me thank you
That my selfishness, ignorance, and mockery
Did not bring you to
Discard me like a broken doll
Which had lost its favor.
I thank you that
You still find something in me
To cherish, to admire, and to love.

I thank you, Mother.
I love you.

William Makepeace Thackeray on Mothers

There is an image that I have often read in books that goes something like this: The protagonist is going to die, the author gives him voice, the voice of the character is calling out to his mother, the character dies, I cry. I cry not so much because of the heartbreaking story. But more so because I , too, am a mother.

PS. This particular scene has come to me unexpectedly, but I'm sure I have read it. I'm just not sure what book or from where. If you have an idea where, do leave a comment below.