Her voice, all these years has always marked the start of my day, waking up an hour prior to me without any alarm. Her smile, is what has mended mine for countless number of troubled times. Her eyes, has always made me feel that I have someone to take care of me. Though, I complain and cry, I shout and simmer, run away in rage, wanting only to burn the whole world down with me, but she is what makes me come back home.
She, a lot shorter than me, much older and fragile, has taught me how to walk with gait, to speak with silence, to listen with heart, to care with soul; to heal with a touch, to rise with pride, and to grow wiser with every wound.
And she does it without telling anybody. She’s the one, who has made me realize that sacrifices must never be spoken about, because they lose all of their power the moment they are reminded as favors. And I shudder at the mere thought, looking at her old wrinkled eyes, that someday this brave person, who brought me to this world, will close her eyes forever.
But even now, her only concern is that I must not be alone when it happens. I tell her, I don’t need anybody, I’m self-reliable. And she nods along, but she knows better. I’m still just a kid, whose mind matured before the body could grow up. And she knows I will always need feminine touch, to push me further.
But I doubt, if I’ll ever love somebody else like her, that I’ll ever find peaceful sleeps in somebody’s lap, like the ones I had when she used to become my shield, after father had taken out his anger on me. If I’ll ever enjoy the food without her hands sprinkling the spices as per my taste buds. If somebody will come just to feed me at night, after having a bitter argument few minutes ago.
And yet, now when I look at her, I don’t remember if I have ever told her enough, that how much I owe her. How much she means to me. How much I want to take care of her. How much I love her.
“Wake me early in the morning”, I’ve always told her.
“I’m not well”, Mother never said, but just smiled with a nod.