For The Most Beautiful Lady in My World

Dear mum ,

I wish I was that msn emoticon laughing baby. I wish I have that power to wipe the worries off your face everytime you see me.

A few years ago I looked through your old photo album and saw some pictures of you on an outing with your classmates. You were swimming in the sea and laughing with your friends. And then I looked at you, tutoring bro's homework at the table. You weren't smiling. There were no happy sparks in your eyes. If truth be told, you looked tired and on the verge of crying.

I don't know whether you remember me going over to give you a hug that day. You seemed surprised. I told you I love you, and that you should smile. I was 16 or 17 then - the same age as that beautiful, laughing girl in the old black-and-white photo.

Now I am the age you were when you had me. Was it difficult, mum? To be a wife, a mother when there was still so much you wanted to do with life?

I remember being half asleep. I remember you softly patting my back, feeling the rising and lowering of your chest against my cheek, and listening to you talk. Piano in the background. I remember you stroking my hair, softly.

I think back of so many nights we shared a bed, sometimes a pillow, talking the night away. Past, present, future. I remember the sound of cars driving by, and the momentary white streak on the ceiling as the sounds slowly faded.

When I was very young, after brushing my teeth one day, you beckoned me into my pitch-dark room, grinning excitedly. I followed you into the room, and you closed the door behind me. You were right next to me, I couldn't even see you. And then in front of me floated a semi-bright little circle, inside which moved a little needle. "See? I bought a new glow-in-the-dark watch". You announced happily.

Sometimes, at night, when I lay awake staring up at my ceiling over here in Russia, I think of those momentary car headlight streaks, and the glowing little circle in that dark room. How trivial these memories are. Yet, how close to you that makes me feel. At times like these, I miss you.

When I was a child, I wondered whether God (or someone) gave every mother special "SuperMom Mind Readers"(yes I gave them a name) when they gave birth. As I stared at you sheepishly, tears forming a dam behind my eyes, I always wondered how you knew I was naughty again. Or how you were always there when I needed a hug or a pat on the back.



Now I know why.

Mum, I wish I could have written a beautiful poem or used flowery words and fancy phrases, and a thousand different words that mean the same three words I want to say to you. I want to paint you beautiful sunsets and blooming flowers to show my love for you.

Yet as I sit here typing, these images keep swirling in my mind. You at 17, laughing at the beach. Me upon your chest, falling asleep as you talked. Night time car streaks. That glowing little circle.

I suppose, in some ways, that's "I Love You" enough.

Happy Mother's Day, mum. I only want you to smile.