Voila! And my meals are inside my esophagus. I was watching Moulin Rouge when they all crawled down from my jaws to inside of me. It was an excellent piece, I must say. Beautiful in a moment, though is sentimental. Again, it gets me.
You see, I don’t have enough time to brag about mom these few days because everyone is doing the same thing. I don’t want to talk about her because it’s Mother’s Day. I want to talk about her because she is a mother.
Along the way to my 21 almost 22 years existing, I’ve accepted more than enough from a woman I call a mother. Then again, it impresses me how I never get enough of it dearly. Maybe that is why you call it “The Mother’s Touch”. We all embrace aging, but nearly all of us deny that we miss the moment we had with her. Some of us work hard to earn that back, but maybe of our ego it goes back to how it was, walking away.
Getting older doesn’t mean we get to leave our memories together. Getting older doesn’t mean we get to grow up of how we are not raised to be. Getting older also doesn’t mean that we get to leave her alone; because it’s not fair, it never was and it never will be.
How do you feel seeing your mother walking down the aisle of people around the town knowing that she barely has RM10 inside her wallet? How do you feel seeing your mother walks around with her best friend to a farmers market when the only thing she can afford to buy is three pieces of chicken wings for her three children? How do you feel seeing your mother, bringing one plastic bag with only the chicken wings inside while helping her friend lifting up hers on her right hand?
Do you want to see your mom work to her last breath just to pay your expenses? Do you want to make wrong moves when she says it’s not the way you supposed to go? Do you want to see people look down on your mom just because you didn’t try your best in your life? Do you want to see how sad she will be when she knows that you live in filth?
Her love is deep. So deep that she could throw anything away just to give us everything. We walk on earth because of her, we run because of the breath she gave us. The time we had together, is the time we should precious the most. Nothing could ever win the love of a mother, because she knew everything that happens within us. She knows how bad we feel when we are being rebellious, but she knows if she speaks back, it will only scratch the pure bond between a mother and her child. And so she just sits back... and silent, like always.
We don't know how hard she pray every single night. Praying to Him, asking for happiness to be poured onto you. How she sometimes cry in her sleep remembering how high you raised your voice to her. How she weeps her own tears, without anyone's help. Praying to Him, saying let all the burdens of my children are put upon me, struggle till my last breath. It is an obvious communication, and she tells it by the wrinkles on her face that you see so ugly. Or her sweats you smell like a debris.
You don't know how touched she was when you shake her hands, kiss her on her cheeks. That is when she actually could ask for nothing else but that. When she sees you holding her hands, sits beside her and lean your head on her shoulder. That is the moment when she feels like she has been a successful mother, not educationally nor monetarily. But in the sense of loving. That is all she longs for.
She gave up everything she wanted just to raise us up perfectly, and she gave up everything just to make you happy. Her effort is not to be paid back; she only wants to be remembered. She wanted us to be raised up without a glitch, and when we own that, appreciation is the only thing she looks for. Not monetarily, not materialistically, but by remembering. Commemoration of an effort of a woman called a mother. Happy Mother’s Day.
