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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