Sunday, May 10, 2015

Becoming My Mother

My mummy & I, Christmas 2014
I looked in the mirror the other day
And I realized
That slowly I was becoming my mother.
Somehow, her face was being superimposed over mine.
I opened my mouth the other day
And I realized
That my mother's voice was coming from my mouth;
The words and tone were hers, recorded in my voice.
I woke up the other day
And I realized
That becoming my mother wasn't such a bad thing.
My mother is superwoman
She has eyes in the back of her head
And the ability to read my mind.
My mother is a woman of high standards
"If you're going to do it, do it properly" she always says.
She will put me in my place
And push me to reach for the stars.
She's the one who would ask about the other 1%
When I brought home a score of 99 on an exam.
My mother is the embodiment of unconditional love
And my biggest fan.
She is my 4:30am wake-up call so I don't miss a flight
She still buys all my favourite foods when I come home.
My mother is Excel spreadsheets and lasagna
And reading all the instructions in the box.
She is tea in the morning 
(Two cups, and one more in the afternoon, and at night).
My mother is dark skin and curly hair
And singing hymns and reading books
And smiles and laughter (and scary silence when she's mad).
My mother is "If you don't know it, look it up"
She is "Godliness with contentment is great gain."
And "Tomorrow is another day."
And "Don't be sorry, be different."
She is the voice in my head that whispers,
"Keep going"
When I don't think that I'll make it to the end.
My mother is the reason why I can embrace change
Because she always has:
"Never a bad happening" she says.
I looked in the mirror today
And I realized
That if I could be half the woman that my mother is,
I'd be a remarkable woman indeed.

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A person finds joy in giving an apt reply—
and how good is a timely word! -Prov 15:23