My mother who bore me. My mother who loves me. My mother who will always be there ’til death do us part. I love her. Oh how I love her and miss her. Thinking about her, praying to God to keep her safe, to let her have a sweet dream when she’s sleeping alone in that big bed without me, writing about her like right now at 2 o’clock in the morning brings me to tears.
She is the best. Call me proud. I couldn’t care less because its the truth. So what if i’m proud of my mom? I’ve seen moms that are to me a little stupid and bad and I would secretly thank God that those kinds of moms weren’t my mom:) She was always the best in her classes, always the youngest as well. And the best amongst her siblings. She’s the smartest mom as well 
She ‘s my teacher. Taught me a lot of things. I may sometimes miss giving her something or do something special for Valentine’s Day and other occasions but never on her birthday. For as long as I could remember, she did the same for me. That’s how I learned from her:) Some of my friends don’t even know their moms’ birthdays, let alone give gifts. I find that very shocking. Mom also taught me how to pray. Pray when you’re feeling sad and alone. Pray when you need help. Pray a lot. She taught me how to be responsible for things and never took my side when I fought with friends.
Mom is soft. She was never the type to yell or shout at us or beat us even when we did something wrong. The only time I remember her laying a hand on me was that time when I broke the lock with my nursery school friends and got inside our house and not wait for her to get back from school. She was very disappointed she spanked me with a roll of brown exercise book covers that weren’t thick enough to cause pain. But I cried anyway
She’s my hero. When I was a kid, I always thought mom would make the best CM of Mizoram I still think she could pull it off And she’s so cool She never complained the loud music or the many posters covering up the bedroom walls. Or the teenager’s various obsession with different bands. And she lets us be.
She’s a fighter and survivor. Divorcing dad and moving into a new house with us in Chanmari, we weren’t poor but we didn’t have much. Looking back at that house and looking at our house now, we may not be rich but we have everything we need. I can only wonder how tough it must be to bring us up alone, without a man to help her and to rely on. Things like making the right decisions for us. Sure as hell it wasn’t easy. Not even close. I was never much of a problem, in fact, I was her little angel and I still am. I try my best. I was the good one of her two kids. My brother was hell, oh yes he was. WAS. The times that I called “HELL”, I don’t know how she coped with it. No one to talk to, no one to help her. I was too young then, to talk with or really feel the pain and the situation. I’d seen her cry once or twice but I’m sure she must have cried more than just that. She must have been scared. She must have wished dad was there. She spent a lot on attempts and hopes to make my brother quit drugs. The frequent school switching, the addict homes, the gospel camps and many more. The things she lost, so many clothes, kitchen stuff and other things she worked hard for that my brother would sell away just to get some drugs. She always tried her best to keep the bad news to herself because she never wanted to worry me. All these times, I never saw her lose control once or broken down. Money was never easy, it still isn’t. But she clothes us well, fills our stomach, put a roof above our heads and shoes on our feet. There was nothing we lacked or wanted what other kids had. She’s like that rock of ages in the song. Heavy storms may come and hit her over and over, but she stood firm and strong.
I wish that even though she is near 50 now, she would find a man to rely on, to hold her at night and tell her she’s not alone and make her feel safe. A shoulder to lean on. A husband to make love to her and to just love her. Sometimes I wonder if she still loves dad. And if by any twist of fate, dad comes back, would she take him back, and if she still remembers their anniversaries and if things still remind her of him. See, my mom is one hell of a woman. She did everything alone and she made it. Steady as a rock. That’s my mom:) Things may not be perfect now but the dark clouds have passed. There’s no such thing as perfect anyway. Except maybe for her I will never stop thanking God for her and I can’t imagine life without her. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. Some girls don’t want to grow up and become their moms but I want to be axactly like this one right here:) So here’s to my beautiful mom, MY SUPERMOM. My everything.
September 26th, 2010 at 12:25 am
Kei chu ka tete lai atangin ka nu bulah ka awm lo hlauh a ,Nute hlutna na hi ka hre em em thung ,nute chanchin sawi hi hreawm ka ti thin.
Ka nauseni tunge mi kawl
Ka nu ka nu duh tak chu.
Ka damlova ka tap amin chawi mu thin
Ka nu ka nu duh tak chu……..
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September 27th, 2010 at 10:49 am
@huManOid.. i rilru ka lo tina a nih chuan thupha ka chawi e, ka tum reng vang a ni lo a nia.. i nu khi a dik lo hul hual ka tihna a ni reng reng lo, i pa pawhin diklohna tam tak cu a nei ngei ang. Amaherawhchu ka sawi tum zawk chu nupui pasal kan zawn kawngah hian kan fimkhur a tul zia hi a ni. Lal Isuan ‘Pathianin a zawm tawh chu mihringin then suh se’ a tih avangin kan kawppui te kan zawn uluk a ngaih zia a tilang chaing hle. Sum leh hmel chauh hian awmzia a nei lo tih hi kan in zirtir chian lehzual a ngai. Amaherawhchu tunlai kan culture ah ‘boy-girl’ relationship awmdan hi chu a lungawithlak loh hle. kan nupui-pasalte atan kan duh te chauh hi ngaihzawngah nei ngam ila chuan hetiang ang buaina tam tak hi cu kan pumpleh ngei ka ring.. nangpawh zawnglai i la nih chuan, Pathian ring chung fimkhur taka i kawppui tur i zawn ngei ka duhsak che a ni e..
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