Last night I asked Yaya what time she needed to leave for work in the morning. This morning I asked her the exact same question again. I remember her answering me yesterday, but I really don’t remember what she said. It was like all those times I placed the cake batter in the oven and looked at the clock to check the time. I remember looking at the clock, but not what time it was.
She was really annoyed. “Mom,How many times do I have to tell you the same thing? I hate having to repeat the same thing over and over” she said
“I understand Yaya, no one likes to repeat the same thing over and over. However, do you remember when you were young, how many times I read your favourite Celtic fairy tales? Each of those stories were more than 20 pages long. How many times you made me sing your favourite nursery rhymes? Tell you the story of Genghis Ghan? Matsalleh of Sabah? Now it is your turn. Just as you are growing up, I am growing old, today you might only have to repeat the answers couple of times, tomorrow you not only have to repeat the things, you might even have to scream louder so I can hear you. And that is not all, you might even have to listen to me repeating the same old story over and over for the rest of my life”
She was quiet for a few seconds and I think I got the message across.
While she is now in her infallible youth which is flawless, error free and is impeccable, she needs to remember that I am growing old. My physical and mental abilities are declining.. It is time she learned that along with all that makes her youth perfect, she needs to practice patience.. for that is the only thing that will help her cope with the fragility of my old age..
and so it begins..