I typed this two days ago and it has been sitting in my drafts as I tried to bring myself into sharing it.
Flashback!
I am a thirteen year old skinny looking tomboy. Mischievous and but also exceling in school. My obsession with reading has contributed loads to my vocabulary making English a favourite. Because of this, recently I earned the most expensive I have ever owned and right away gifted it to her.
She adjusts something as I gawk on her through the mirror and turns around to confirm if I approve of some official look. It is her first day back to work this week and she is so excited about the whole thing.
I nod. She smiles. Painfully.
If I was being asked, something more needs about that recurring swelling on her left breast but her defiance can have anyone fooled that she is fit to return to work but not me though as that pain must've stolen her usual glow.
Her sunk dancing eyes quickly drop to her feet after my confirmation and crawl up her own body as if she is checking if I or the mirror hanging on her bedroom wall missed something. I giggle and ask if she doesn't trust my eyes. She flashes a mocking smile then goes back to her business.
I laugh out loud. And say how hurt I am.
But we both were present when I begged my optician not to adorn my eyes with those magnifying things that made my eyeballs seem more like golf balls he was suggesting I start wearing. How he expected me to show up in school in those things was what my 'coolness' found amusing! I mean, primary school children can be mean little rascals and I wasn't looking to cave into their bullish comments. From that last visit, she lovingly calls me a bat.
What about the mirror? I tease while shaking off my short-sightedness challenges.
The mirror is and has always been full of deceit my child. Her voice forces my face to face hers for a second before hers drop to admire the gift resting on her wrist. Lost in her own thoughts, she addresses me.
This is your first gift to me and I intend on cherishing it for a while. I filter how proud she is by her breaking voice.
But mama, I got that watch because you have made unimaginable sacrifices for me and my siblings to get an education. She drops a sincere smile and closes our gap with a hug. And as she smells better than the earth after the rain and the desire to cling to her overwhelms me.
Present...
Mother's day has always had this bitter aftertaste. When May comes around now, it drags mixed feelings here with it. The joy of seeing my own brood appreciating my existence and the sadness of understanding a little more that I will never share my motherhood with her push and pull.
I sat alone in my bedroom after receiving the above rose and meditated on her. I crave for her presence more than anything. Her smile had some reassuring magic and her energy oozed of her indescribable strength. Mama was a rock and soft at the same time.
Her love was unquestionable. She gave it all.
She was my first home and my everlasting truth. My shield. She fought for me long before there was a voice of my own. It continued even after I got it still. She was my teacher. She taught me the ways of life. She shouted at me with love. Forgave me even more.
Who would I be without her unconditional love as a foundation? What am I without her influence on my life? It is interesting how I fall back on her many advices about how to tackle life. How even though she is gone forever, she is stuck here for life!
wambuku w.
