Hey, I don't know who is reading me or who is not even reading the first line of me. But my blog echoed my heart, not the brain. Apart from all other social media things and work, this is picturing what I am and what I will be (it can be tiny things you see on earth or it can be out of the universe). Gladly, in a hut under a lantern, with a piece of paper, celebrating my one year of blog writing. I love you for raising me to a garage that I much needed.
Reciting mother stories was a bit difficult for me since I started to write things I love. I still remember I wrote the poem "To my dad" when I was doing my first graduation. When it got published in the college magazine Umma said to me " you are a father girl", I gave a wicked smile to her jealous statement because that was not the reason why I didn't write for her.
Still, I have that same reluctance to write, where should I start? What should I write? It can't be structured one because she is an unconquerable person, literally the only diva of my life, the only rays of home. She asked me to get a job, to have outings with her, to have lunch in a food court where there is a crowd of people. She needs to walk through the lobby of a Western city. Why am I not chill like my mother?
I am ain't a person like her with a broad heart to say mistakes are a lesson. I have never enjoyed my beauty after a party by looking in the full mirror like my Maa did. She used to be courageous and smart, she told me that I should be identified, not the weak part of you. She used to laugh out loud like this is a rare moment. But why did she give up all her life for her husband and children? And she continuously gives me the response like, 'I can't compromise anything over you people, this is my world.'
She has saved her chocolate for me, she has saved her pocket money for me and she never let me go to school without her hug or kiss. We used to make romance like I am her mother and she is my kido, that was the funniest part of us. I used to tie her hair like a school child and once I even did a haircut on that. She is cool and she never complained about my decisions.
Suddenly, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and I didn't believe it. I think I have taken it easy. Because she is a manageable lady but you know for many reasons we haven't met for that period of operation and chemo. We were so sensitive and kind of weird. I have chanted in my heart like I am going to be a daughter of a super mom who has survived cancer. Yup, I was wrong.
But the thing is I am a surviving daughter of a beautiful mother who once lived here.
Okay, this blog isn't enough to tell our stories.
I love you for being an incredible human in my childhood and teenage years. And your memories pour much boldness to my adulthood.
With love,
daughter.
