A place called home

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Baby moose look at his mother, his face give a radiant but the pair of eyes gave a sneer at the most loving and tender mother moose inside that wood. Mother moose felt uncomfortable with the look of her only child.
“What’s wrong my dear? I see your face looks happy but your eyes tell me the opposite,” said mother moose.
But there’s no sudden response from her baby. Mother moose’s eyes follow its baby motion here and there. Jumping around her, running back and forth so many times and sometimes he slipped in mud. Mother moose gave a big smile at him and told him to get up quick.
“Mother, you know I hate those azaleas. Their buds make me sneeze all the time but you keep telling me to take a good care of it. I hate those dying trees I hate this muddy ground, I hate everything around here. The only one I love in this wood is you mother,” Baby moose said.
“Of course you’ll love me, because you’re still a baby. You need me my dear, but while you grow perhaps you’ll leave me,” Mother moose replied shortly.
Baby moose stare at his mother, then his eyes fell watching the seared grass beneath his feet. Anguish feeling creep inside his heart. His cute little face was full of shame, since his mother might be correct. He might leave her alone in this wood, his passion to envision a huge world was too big to shrink.
“Come with me then mother. My dreary days looking at those dying trees, waterless pond, ominous playground, left a deep hollow inside me mother. I hate this place, I hate those azaleas, I hate those pathetic burnt twigs,” Baby moose almost cry after saying these.
But mother moose always share a warm smile to her only child. A warm smile which able to melt a hard steel down. Her convincing eyes transform a magic spell to comfort every anguish heart before her.
“I know you don’t like those azaleas, but don’t say you hate them. I sense your sadness looking at those burnt trees, that waterless pond. But never detest any of them, look at the whole wood we’re living in. It still offering secure to us, give a shelter though not as comfy as you ever wished. We’re still able to eat crunchy grass around those azaleas, and we still able to taste the sweet water from that puddle. This entire wood give us what we need, not what we wanted most. This wood called home,” said mother moose.