To, Ma

At 12, I never got along with you. Call it my growing years, or your inability to cope with a petulant obese kid- we just could not stay in the same 15 by 20 for more than a few minutes before one of us lost our cool. Why? I guess that is because I started thinking for myself- for the good or the bad- and you were always the one who knew it all.

At 15, I became a li'l indifferent. Not because I cared less, but because I started caring for myself a wee bit more. Yes, you were there and I was too. But I started making a world for myself. A world that you would know little of, a world for me. I wonder why I did that? Aren't our worlds the same? I wish I knew this then, as I do now.

At 18, I left home for the first time. I missed you terribly, and maybe to adjust to the new environs and to stop thinking about home, I started retracting into my shell. I became aloof, less sensitive and maybe rude, again. I was trying to heal myself, and in retrospect, I now know that it was not a good plan.

Today, I know how much you mean to me, and how much I owe to you. I know you are a very strong and opinionated woman, and I am proud of you for that. It is a pleasure, and an honour being your son. There is no other family, and no other mother that could make me who I am today. I think we understand each other more today, and I thank Him for being kind to both of us.

That's a decade for you Ma. A decade wherein I lost myself, and have almost found 'me' again. Thank You! for bearing with this whimsical, rancorous kid.

Yours, always.