Lillie Aissa

a place to call home

When I was a child, I didn’t notice that we were different. I didn’t notice that other mothers didn't wear miniskirts and leather jackets to parents evening. I didn't notice that other children weren’t taken on these insane thrilling holidays at least twice a year, where there would be dancing, laughing and crying and feeling truly connected to the world and everyone in it. I didn’t notice how other people's homes didnt have 713 books, five guitars and six cats. I thought everyone’s mum was special, a philanthropist and moved mountains and their actions aligned with their values. Today you can find my mother in our cosy London flat which has art covering every inch of space and books spilling off shelves and onto the floors and tables. We have a pile of bills and receipts living on our sofa, which my mother will sometimes shred. Her books range from French philosophy to art encyclopedias, but most are psychology books that helped her out of some dark places and which now help me on my journey. My mother’s name is Cina.