“There’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.” – Mitch Albom.
So this post was to be up on mother’s day, but well I figured it should be published today, because it is my mother’s birthday. I choose to celebrate this woman today and every day. Through her, I have learned a lot and who I am today is because of her.
She is the embodiment of strength. She possesses the strength of an ox (quite literally). She has more than one job just to ensure the family’s needs are met, and as if that is not enough, she is taking her PhD.
Every day is an early morning for her. She basically has to be at work by 8, and between 8 and 6, she will have alternated among the many jobs she does. After that, she comes home and makes dinner for the family (which is just dad now) before doing her study research and then going to bed later in the night. On other days she has to wake up slightly early to do more research or do the laundry before going to work. A woman of such strength, who can find?
Growing up, mama was not my favorite parent – she was more of the strict one. She has softened these days (I guess it comes with age). I vividly remember the times when i didn’t toe the line, and she would follow me around with a cane, and when she got to me, it was bad. My assignments were checked without fail, to make sure I had done the right thing.
I also remember her making me packed lunch every morning because I didn’t want to eat the food provided by the school. She would straighten my hair and style it every Sunday morning.
This excerpt is from a poem by my dear friend , that just goes to show who my mother has really been in my life.
“I watched my mum fill out an application I looked at the line that asks about past professions I thought to myself, that space is too small To write down what she’s been, to cover it all. She was a nurse when I fell and scraped my knee. She was a maid when I didn’t wipe my feet. She was a designer when my clothes didn’t match. She was a tailor when my dress needed a patch. She was a teacher when I asked a question. She was a psychiatrist when I came home crying She was a preacher when I got caught lying. She was a lifeguard when she said the water’s too deep…..” (Sanzy Chef Muna)
I celebrate you mother. May I have the strength to find the kind of strength that you possess.