Motherly love

I was young, somewhere in the fourth or
fifth year in school
I returned from school one day
not feeling very well.
I kept sitting on the sofa,
then on the bed;
this continued for some time.
Seeing me sit on the sofa,
my mother came to me.
She touched my forehead with her palm
to check for running temperature.
Her guess proved to be right,
I was having fever.
I hadn’t mentioned about the ill-feeling
to her, but she could read it.
Some days after I had recuperated,
I asked her how she had found it out.
She replied that since I wasn’t
the chirpy me that day,
she knew something was wrong.
Is there any reason for
love to be sought by a being?