You will be celebrating your birthday soon. I am not sure how old you are. You were afraid of growing old and my sisters and I used to fudge your age from the time you were in your late 40’s. We randomly picked a number ( easily 10 years over your actual age) whenever anyone asked how old you were. You hated it, but when we were young, we enjoyed making an old lady out of you.
Today, I could easily calculate your age from your year of birth. But I don’t want to and I am not going to.
I don’t want you to grow old. I want you to stay young.. like an evergreen.
Yaya will be going to Spain next term. She will be away for three months. This is the first time Yaya will be away from me for that length of time. I worry so much about her upcoming trip and I wonder how I will cope without her. Who will tell me,”I love you mom” each morning before she goes to school? Who will come to me each morning wearing an assortment of jewellery and ask me “Do I look ok?” Will she send me any emails when she is there?
Then I think of you..and wonder how do you cope. You raised me and here I am, your daughter and the mother of your grand children..not even calling you up and wishing you on your birthday.
You know amma, all three of your grandchildren are playing basketball this year and are in Div 1 team? If you were here, you would have said ” their mother, my daughter never touched a basketball in her life, but at least her children have inherited their grandmother’s skills” It is true. I never understood what is the joy in playing basketball and never had any intention of sending my children to play basketball, even though my mother and my sisters were well known basketball players.
But life is full of surprises.. Yaya insisted that she wants to play basketball this year and joined the club, followed by her siblings. One of the mother’s who watched my kids play basketball asked me which team they played before?? I couldn’t help smiling..thinking how proud you would be..and honestly, if I didn’t have the mole in my hand that appa and I share, I probably would have agreed that I was swapped at birth and your real daughter is someone else.
I don’t know how many more years you have on this earth. I know time slips through your hand like sand…I wish I could just pick up the phone and wish you..
But I can’t.
Not because I am stubborn like Appa. ( which I am, I don’t deny it)
I don’t hate you Amma. But if I don’t have this space, this chasm between us..I will not be able to cope.
Right now, I know, I still can come to you, if I ever have to, because whatever happens, you will always be mother..and I will always be your daughter.
Happy birthday Amma.
I love you.