Memory of a Mother

It has been fifteen years. Still I don't truly know who you are. I was only two ... I remember some things, They've told me stories. Or do I just THINK I remember you, Because of the stories I've heard? Do I really remember you? Do I remember the nights you rocked me to sleep, The days you never wanted to leave, The mornings I woke up to your smiling face? Or are they figments, Simply wishes for those times to be real? Now I sit with my picture of us, Reminiscing, or am I?