Wherever we go, she’s still a mother
Cities may differ and countries may change - each race has its own beliefs and traditions, and our societies may be different, but we perhaps agree on one thing: a mother’s love remains the same. Each of us has a certain date, which even if the mind forgets, the soul will always remember - the birthday of our mother who made us come to life in this world.
Today is her birthday. I was looking forward to write a column in the memory of my late mother, and while I was writing, I scrolled through Instagram and found a caption written by my cousin to her mother, describing herself and how she became similar to her mother, my aunt Mufida. Although I have read this in the past, I did not get the meaning until I grew older. The majority of daughters in our country grow up looking more and more like their mothers.
The following are the words:
I grew up; my mother, I am becoming like you more and more... now I wake up early.
I sleep before them, congestions irritate me, and talking exhausts me. I grew older, my mother, and I taste tea much better. I like herbs and the smell of amber. I grew older, my mother and I read everything alone. I cry silently all alone, and I miss my old self. I grew older, my mother, and everyone is leaving. I have less friends, I have started to like the silence and get tired of noises.
I grew up, my mother, and I don’t care about staying up late - now the sea gives me comfort like you.
I am no longer that girl who sleeps to dream of that dress - the world has become very complicated, my mother.
Everyone has become like toys, and I no longer know how to play.
Life no longer looks like what you said, and it is barely colorful - the streets have become congested, and everyone, my mother, is worried.
—Translated by Kuwait Times