Many times you think about the past and feel now it is time to move on. But do we really move ahead? I don’t feel so. You always compare your present with your past. That is how you come to a conclusion; are you happy now or were you happy then? Today, my fresh pen is drooling through those old memories where my relationship with my mom had just taken its shape.
From the core
Every mother-child relationship is unique. And I was no different from that, in fact, I was a little more glued to her. As if I had not been delivered out fully; some part had been left inside my mom.
- I and mom had always been early birds. So we used to get up early in the morning when she helped me out with my studies. That time was just for the two of us and I simply liked that privacy.
- Every evening I waited for her to return from work and help me with my homework. I knew almost everything regarding my studies but somewhere my heart said” mummy karayengi”
- During winters I felt tense when it was dark and mom was not home. My damp eyes rested at the front door asking myself ” when will she return and I will hug her tightly.”
- I hated going to school. I used to wait for the bell to ring so that the school will be off for the day. And on other days, I would nag my teacher asking her the closing time. I daily prayed for one of the parents to pick me up from school early.
Lessons learnt later in life
- Somewhere in my mind, the hatred for school stayed and maybe that’s why I never liked the later years of my school. Only the three years of my college were the golden years when I actually grew up.
- While growing you don’t depart from a relationship but the experiences in life teach you to detach yourself.
- Kids may not like going to school but I as a mother today, just wait for Mondays when kids will be back to school. There is so much to write when kids are not around.
- The bond of love and dependency is not there because two people live together. It enhances and beautifies with time and maturity. Today, I understand my mom much better and respect her sacrifices made for us.
Memories are old but the pen is fresh