eleven things i learnt from my mother
i. to love means to give. sometimes, to love also means to grieve. more often than not, it's both at a time.
ii. there was no place for her dreams in the suitcase she brought into my father's house. so, she left them away. ever since, she tells me my dreams are allowed to take up space. everything else must adjust.
iii. it takes two halves to make a whole.
iv. it takes more than a roof to keep a family together. it's been twenty years; she buries her anguish in her belly every night.
v. words can hurt more than they can heal.
vi. you cannot expect people to love in exchange of being good. the scales will go never balanced, she smiles meekly as it's yet another night my grandmother refused to eat what she cooked.
vii. not everything you create is art.
viii. as you grow up, as many gardens as you plant, make some place for a graveyard. goodbyes and grieving come cheaper than love.
ix. your flowers will wither along with your face. tend to your roots, they'll last longer.
x. people never leave. you get to decide when they should.
xi. remember me. all it will take to do so is to close your eyes and look within. i'm there. always.
06/04/2020