A letter from a daughter to a mother
A letter for a soul like no other,
Regretfully, I can not start this letter with the customary, ‘How are you?’ because I can see things. I have seen you work, day and night, so that I can get my clothes, clean and pressed; food, cooked and delicious; bed, clean and comfortable and life, lovable and amazing. Everything at the expense of your own life, your own luxuries and your own health. You don’t have a single moment to spare for yourself. Day after day, I find you adding new things in your life. Correction, in OUR life, because everything you add, is according to our needs and wishes.
Every bite of the delicious dishes you create is like a bite out of the foods in heaven. What is that makes everything you make, so much tastier than when my friend’s mother makes it? Or when any of my Aunt makes it? Is it a secret ingredient that you add, some 7-star restaurant trick, or maybe, is it just because you know exactly how I like it?
Flowers have their own sweet scent. So does rain. And all the lovely fruits. Even the dirt has a fragrance, the wind carries to us every day. But they are all objects, you are living. Why do you have such a beautiful scent, the one which follows you everywhere you go. It is a scent that I can pick even when I am in shop full of imported perfumes. It is not just air molecules, it is an energy, something that activates my senses when it fills my lungs.
Mama, are you a Super Woman? Because when I try to do what you do 365 days a year for even a single day, I get so tired I feel like this is it. I won’t be able to go on anymore. How do you do the cleaning, the dusting, the cooking, the arranging of rooms, arranging of clothes, setting and resetting our home, every single day?
And that is not even the full list. I haven’t included how you stop by my chair to kiss my head and encourage me when I feel down. I have not even mentioned how you replace something I don’t like with something of my liking, before I can say so. How you take all my sins in your ragged breaths and shed all your fears in your tears. How you come, wiping that sweat off your forehead to ask me what the matter is. No, I have not mentioned the endless hours you spend everyday just to emotionally lift me up and get me through the day.
If I started listing all the things you do, I would end up filling every corner of our world and still left with unsaid stuff.
No designer can beat your ideas. Neither can any artisan match your level of skill. There is no one who can give better advice than you. Nobody can ever work 24/7 and still smile and laugh as genuinely and gorgeously as you do. And no one can EVER match the warmth of your hugs.
I know, though I was unaware then, how you carried me around for 9 months, not complaining even once. Yet I readily complain. Over things you only do with a pure heart. Yet, I am ungrateful, even when I know that you have always wanted me, even before my existence, and still disobey or disregard your wishes. The wishes you make so scarcely. Those wishes you make only because they are good for me.
Mama, I want you to do this one more thing for me. Pray that I become what you have always been, sweet, sincere, loving, caring, kind and compassionate. Pray that I don’t stray from my designated path of righteousness as you never did. And Pray that I become as selfless and sacrificial as you have always been, from lending your food to the dresses you loved the most.
Because I know that when you pray for me, my topsy turvy life turns okay once more.
Yes, you are the best thing for a daughter. You are my special thing. May you live a hundred years just so that I can look for your guidance whenever I want. May you remain happy, comfortable and at peace forever more. Ameen.
With bundles of love,