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A letter to a mom from a homesick daughter, written straight from the heart, after she leaves home for higher studies. Do read.
I might not ask you how you are, for proper now, you’re literally inside the room next to mine. In a perfect world, you will have been here with me, we would have been chatting. You will have complained approximately how you caught father sneaking chocolates from the fridge the previous day, or that you’re worried about my brother who nonetheless hadn’t called again home. You would’ve asked me if I had stayed up last night time too. I’d said no; however, you would’ve recognized that I am lying.
You usually knew, Maa.
Check it out!
Each time I said I’m going to the ‘library’, or that I wasn’t hungover, simply worn-out. Lies.
When I told you I wasn’t hungry, that I have had dinner. Lies.
“I did not cry. My eyes are simply crimson due to the heat.” Lies.
“I don’t like him in that manner. He is only a friend, Maa.” Lies. All of them. You knew all of it.
Then I am hoping you realize that nowadays, when I close the door in your face, it isn’t because I want to hurt you. It’s simply that the storm I’m going through right now is hitting me tough, and that I recognize you will continually have my back. However, I want to stand through this by myself. Why? ‘Cause I’ve seen you weeping at the sight of my tiniest bleeding wounds, that were not almost as painful for me as they were for you. So I can believe that if this case if I am hurting so bad, it will hurt you 100 times more.
We have usually had our differences, Maa, on evaluations, people, clothes, and even food. And now that I think about it, I was always the one at fault. For now, I’ve begun to recognize that I’ve usually had you, to stick with me via thick and thin, literally at my side 24/7, but I failed to reciprocate the same. May be that is due to the fact that at the beginning we have been taught, that a mother is equal to God, she takes care of her toddler like none another can. But who looks after a mother?
I have been roaming across this metropolis, trying new eating places, clicking snapshots, giving reviews. But I forgot to tell you, that the large Mac can’t ever replace your aloo parathas, that I’d rather have your sparkling, hot, fluffy puris, than my favored croissant. I would still prefer to wake up to your voice than the sound of my beeping smartphone. Your head massages are the best, Maa, and cuddling with you, is usually an on the spot increase of much-wished love and care.
I am sorry for no longer being the daughter I might’ve been. But simply due to the fact I am accepting it, please don’t forgive me in just a moment. Permit me to pamper you, permit me to take you out to the films or purchasing, or simply make you your favorite tea.
I remember that when I was little, you used to cut out and save little strips of recipes from newspapers to make pizza, lasagna and what not. I now recognize that I’ve always been a fussy eater. You taught me ABC when I didn’t know how to hold the pencil. Even at a time the there was not easy net access, you still somehow contrived to make me a tour the world. I promise to do the real tours for you, at some point. Even though no amount of my love and care should ever in shape your compassion, I’ll attempt.
Mommy, you’re lovely. Does father tell you that enough?
Mom, you did your part and now this is my time to prove myself as the best daughter. After you finish reading this letter, you may hug me tight and sob, but mummy, thank you for always being there for you little daughter. And I will come again to being the warrior I am, this time, a little more potent than the previous day.
Your loving baby.
Published here earlier.
Image source: Flickr, for representational purposes only.
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