Mummy

Every Monday night, she makes iced milo for the whole family. On week days, she comes home complaining about her colleague and her boss. And then she starts lecturing me for not helping out with the household chores (which I never learnt to). Later at night, she starts peeling oranges or cutting apples for my brother and I. Often, she likes to boast of her young days when there were rich men checking her out! On Thursday nights when Daddy goes to play badminton, she starts to watch korean dramas and starts tearing, with my brother and I laughing at her. When she learns a new English word and tries to tell us about it, we would tease and start imitating her, pronouncing the words the way she does (which were most of the time, inaccurate). During the weekends, she wakes up early in the morning to buy us bread and to cook, when all of us are still asleep. When lunch is ready, she wakes us up. After lunch, she does the dishes. Then we all go shopping together, and my brother and I could buy all the fancy stuff we want.

When I was back home, I only saw all these things as ordinary. It was until I left home that I realized that Mummy had not had much time for herself. All the time and money she had was spent on us, spent on providing us with a life she had never had. Though these are all simple gestures, they are the things only one person would and could do; Mummy.