 |
| Photo by the Author |
It was never perfect
Especially when three became two
When us became you and me
There was a moment in time
I preferred anyone but you
Because your words hurt and your glare sharp
Is it because I have father’s face?
Or is it because I was simply there?
Simply right there at the right time?
But on the brink of possibly losing each other,
We found answers, contexts, clues, reasons
Bits of them in stories shared
And they say,
Do not imagine your mother as a young girl
If you are not ready to have your gut punched
Do not imagine her heartbreaks and hardships
If you are not ready to tear up
And wish you were there to hold her hand
Do not imagine her in her twenties
With big dreams, same as you now
If you are not ready to look at the mirror
Do not imagine her losing her other half
If you are not ready to live her point of view
On losing your father, wishing you can hold her while grieving
Do not imagine her now, in her forties
Doing her best to get by
If you are not ready to accept that she is indeed trying
But I did.
I did imagine her as a young girl,
A teenager, a woman in her twenties, a widow,
A mother.
I now understand why my mother is the way she is
A collection of stories, experiences, mishaps, decisions
Just like me
It is funny that as the daughters grow older
We prefer our mothers over anyone
How the tables have turned, huh?
Some daughters do not want to turn out like their mothers,
Though different, there is a piece of her in me
I am just like her
Both mirrors of each other
Both trying our best
Both healing, stitching the gap
The journey is long, rough, and tiresome
But I am grateful for new beginnings and building bridges,
For the love and bond a mother and daughter has, for do-overs
For moments.
I am grateful for moments,
Especially the one where you and me became us again.
