Sure as Autumn Flame


Well, mum.
May 9, 2010, 11:48 pm
Filed under: Festive Cheers, L.ove | Tags: ,

It is Mother’s Day.

I struggle to understand the woman who single-handedly brought me up to the woman I am today…well, sort of ‘woman’ since I am moving into such a phase of my life. The past few weeks have been hell for both of us, with me doing a semi-move out and coming home only 3-4 night each week, and with her complaining that I have heartlessly abandoned her.

From my own selfish perspective, I try my darn-est to drive my point across: that I wish to stand on my own two feet; that I wish to try out living with somebody before considering anything more serious; that I am very stifled by her.

Yet on the other hand, I am also blessed with too good a heart to walk out of that front door. As a mother, it pains her to have her only child move out and leave her all alone in an apartment; her fear of loneliness which probably heightens when she comes home to an empty home; her pent-up emotions at having no one to talk to; her fear of letting go; her dashed hopes of having her daughter by her side forever.

It is Mother’s Day, and we were out having dinner. She saw the families, seemingly happy, dining with one another. “She is so lucky, one son and two daughters,” my mum remarked. Another family walked in, and my mum’s eyes took in the frail old lady who sat between two men, presumably her sons. And my mum lapsed into silence, eyes staring into a distance. Was she thinking of her life in future? Was she thinking about the lousy daughter she has by her side, who only knows to take her out for dinner once in a while? Was she reminiscising about the days when her daughter was single, and could accompany her to the gym and dinner every Saturday?

It is Mother’s Day, and a television advertisement on rice came on. An old woman appeared, with a voiceover: I only ask for your patience, and your love, and nothing else. This rice, I cook with love, patience and everything else. My mum remarked, “Good advertisement. Echoes exactly how I feel.”

A pang of sadness hit me. Could I have done more? Would it have made a little more difference if we both had cherished each evening I am home, instead of hurling snide comments at me and lamenting loudly how “poor thing” she is? I wouldn’t have had to retire into silence, shaking within in rage and tears, while she tries her best not to drown in her own sorrows.

Could there be a balance, between pursuing a life I want and remaining a stay-home mother’s daughter? It is not that she restricts me so badly, it is not that she has imposed a curfew upon me. So am I asking for more, like I have always done? Would I have been the person I am, if I have resigned to obedience?

And what happens when I get married? Do I share her with my future husband, or will I be forced to choose between the two?

And so Mother’s Day will come and go; the days of Mother and I will pass with turbulence, day by day.

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