I have been writing something difficult

- no, very difficult.
It started out because of two conversations I had. One was with the Whirlwind - now a teenager - and the other was with a friend who was once a doctor turned politician but who is now retired.
"I need some advice," the Whirlwind told me some time ago, "You will have to be "mum" for a minute."
Oh. Right. We have been through this before and since then. Sometimes  it is something small, sometimes it is something bigger. This time it was big. It was not the sort of question she could go to her father with and it was not the sort of question she would have felt comfortable asking a teacher or housemistress about. I listened. I asked questions. She came, as I hoped she would, to her own conclusion. 
I am not a mother so I have to hope I do these things in the "right" way - if there is a "right" way.  I suspect there isn't.
The other conversation made me wonder what sort of relationship other people have with their mothers. My friend has three  boys and seems to have an excellent relationship with them. They are obviously  intelligent, creative, funny and kind - just like her. They all do entirely different things and are successful in their own ways. Her delight in their achievements is obvious. They phone her. They email her. She phones them. She emails them. They communicate. They share.
I am trying not to feel envious.It frightens me a little when the Whirlwind trusts me so much. I hope, hope, hope I never betray her trust in me. I would love to have had that sort of relationship with someone - especially in my teens.  It would be wonderful to have the sort of relationship those "boys" enjoy with their mother.
But they are not the sort of relationships which make for good writing or good reading so perhaps my own experiences were better.
It's just that, sometimes, I think it would be nice to be able to tell, to share - to communicate.