Dear Mom,

Before I write anything further, I want you to know that I wish I could hug you right now and say ‘SORRY’ to you for all the things that I did and did not do while I was young; when I was not a wife or a mother, for today when I’m one and growing old, sooner than I realise, I have come to understand what it really takes to be ‘YOU’.    

Your granddaughter and my darling daughter came home yesterday night or should I say today morning at 1 am after her birthday party, without informing me that she was going to be late and I raised my hand at her.

It reminded me of all the times I came home late, citing one pretext or the other, and all you did even when you knew fully well that I was lying was lovingly ask me to sit down and have my favourite meal that you had specially cooked for me that night.

When my daughter said that I was interfering too much in her life when I was inquisitive about her friends, I remembered all those times when I myself said these things to you, little realising that you never really meant to say that I was wrong but only wanted to protect me from anything that could have gone wrong.

When my daughter denied to wear the dress I had specially brought for her, saying that the colour was too gaudy, I remembered all those times when I said there was a generation gap between us, little realising that I would grow up to be a mother some day and my daughter would say the same things to me.

When my daughter threw a tantrum because I did not like the skimpy dress that she had recently bought, I remembered all the times when I did the same and you convinced me by saying that the dress wasn’t bad, but the world was.

When your son-in-law and my husband, who we are both so proud of, came up to me and said that I was a nag and my daughter joined to support him, like the many times that I and dad have together done to you, I understood what it meant to be misunderstood by your own family.

When father and daughter made fun of my eccentricities, like we did to you, I understood what it meant to smile even when it hurts, just to see the prized glee on your loved ones’ faces, even if it means laughing at your own self.

When my husband instructed me that I should leave our daughter alone, for she was old enough, I remembered all those times when I had overheard dad saying the same things to you and realised what it meant for you to be a dutiful wife and a protective mother at the same time, to love and not to show, to love and to let go.

When my daughter declared that cooking was no big deal after studying a new recipe, I remembered all the times when I took your cooking for granted,  little realising that it takes great love to cook food with new found passion four times a day like you used to do, even as you juggled a hard day at work.

When my daughter grumbled about the home-made food, like I used to when I didn’t know better, I regretted all those times when I refused to relish the taste of healthy, home-made food.

When everyone at home thought that I had recovered when I was back in the kitchen cooking for the family, I remembered that you did the same thing without letting us know that you were still running a high fever and had popped painkillers and antibiotics, only so that your family would not have to sleep on a hungry stomach. 

When everyone at home ignored my birthday for they thought birthdays didn’t mean anything to an aging woman, I remembered all those times when you had painstakingly done up the house to make me feel special while I was out there partying with my friends.

When I cried for not being valued, with no shoulder to lean on, when no one was home, coiled and afraid of being called an emotional fool, I understood what you meant at times when you said you felt lonely and uncared for.   

When I’m there at everyone’s beck and call to take care of everyone’s every little need and yet when no one's there for me when all I need is a warm hug and some cheer, I realise what it is to be a wife, mother and a woman…I realise...what it is to be 'YOU'.