A Letter for Mummy
I remember my first day of primary school (elementary school for the Americans). You wore a floral dress that hit right at the calf. Why is that image seared into memory? Maybe it’s because I sobbed and sobbed, holding tightly onto your dress, reluctant to leave you outside the school gates. Eventually, you coaxed me inside and to my new classroom.
It wasn’t a full day of school that day. Parents were allowed to stay just outside — just within the line of sight. I kept looking for you outside my classroom throughout those hours. Every time I peered outside, there you were. Sometimes all I could see was the floral dress — not your face — but I knew it was you.
As I grew older, you would prove to always be there. Sometimes you were my silent sentinel and guardian, other times my boldest advocate and champion. No matter what, you’d be my safety net; a kind, caring, and loving place to land.
The stubborn pursuit of my dream is possible because of your sacrifice. You taught me how to bend but never break. I have the audacity to carve out my own space in a landscape not designed for people like me, because you raised a kid who grew into a woman unwilling to accept ‘no.’
So, mum, on this commercial day that honors you, I thank you for your constant, unending love and support. I know we are long overdue for a mother-daughter spa day. I love you dearly.