I used to be a rebellious son when I was young. Rebellious in the sense that I hate my mum when she call me aloud in the public. I hate her when she chase me around with a rotan (cane). My mum is the disciplinary teacher of our house, while my dad is the one who will console us when we are scolded or beaten by mum. I like to provoke her, doing things against her will, though I know that I will be getting a taste of her rotan for doing so.
My relationship with her is not good during my teens, possibly due to my boiling hormones. It was not until when I enter university, I realized how important she was in my life. There are no one to wash my dirty laundry, no one to cook me a warm home cooked meal, and no one to take care of me when I fall sick. I start to miss her. I start to understand why she took the pain to discipline us, giving us encouragement in a hard way, and it is my first time to tell her that I’m sorry for what I’ve done.
I loved falling sick when I was at a very tender age, as that is the only time when I can feel her love for me. She would sponge me, administering my medicine, even asking me to sleep with her. My dad would have to give way and sleep outside. Those were the days, and now when Kenji have a fever, we are doing the same thing to him. Hopefully, he would not be growing up as rebellious as me.
Today is her 61st birthday. I would like to tell this woman that she is one of the most remarkable person in my life, shaping me into who I am today. Happy birthday mummy!
We celebrated her birthday last weekend. Will post about that in my next post 🙂