It's mother's day this week...she went to bed like any other ordinary night. By ordinary, it meant with an empty house, all her children were not by her side, scattered across the globe, the comfort of knowing them having better education was overwhelm by the fact she no longer can open the doors of their bedroom and sneak a peek at her three sleeping children.
Her husband lied at her side, snoring away as usual, her eyes were as heavy as her heart...
Then there was a sound of her cooking, a mother at the stove, stirring away some yummy dinner waiting for her children to return home. Her cooking had always worked the magic, the trick of getting the children home in time for dinner. And it worked, she can hear the slamming of the heavy wooden front door in the midst of the sizzle of the food in her pan. Ian came in and slipped his head out behind the door frame, with a big grin on his face, his signature grin that makes his eye shrink to a thin line. "What's cooking mommyyy..." He said with his clingy voice, this boy had never grew out of his love for mom. She smiled and signalled him to come on in to the kitchen. He just stood at the door and smiled.
Whoosh, she woke up in the dark, even more conscious than she is in the day. Realising that Ian is half a globe away, she could barely calm herself down. But the tiredness of her body after a long day at work drove her back to sleep.
She walked into the television room, the best room for afternoon naps in the heat of the day. The fan was making the sound as it cut through the hot air. Eva was lying on sideways on the couch, as she always did after college. She would just watch television until she falls asleep and the scent of the dinner cooking would wake her up. Mom knows her best. Her routine which does not involve revision had always worried her. She walked into the room, her daughter on the couch breathing steadily. Mom stooped down beside her, and put her arms around her daughter who used to be so small when she was born prematurely, now a young lady, even taller than mom herself.
Whoosh, she shrieked herself awake again. She couldn't hold it back, the thought sipped in like water in the flood, her children were no longer by her side, and tears dropped from her weak eyes.
She is my mom; and I am not by her side. I am so sorry, mom. No matter how bad a present I had bring to her for her special days, I realize now that the presence is more precious than anything else, just being with her means the world to her, and to me too.
Thank you for giving me your eyes, your nose, your smile, your hands...your love, your time and every shining moment of my life.