HOW MUCH I IGNORED MY MOTHER
I had written something for Mother’s Day. I had prepared a piece.
But then, something struck me: REFLECTION.
I sat quietly that morning. The sun had not yet embraced the sky, and dusk still lingered softly.
And I asked myself: Why do I celebrate Mother’s Day? Why am I writing about it? Do I truly have a reason, or am I just following a trend?
Then, the memories came...flooding my mind like a waterfall in Enugu.
I remembered the days I resented my mother. The times she scolded me harshly for things I knew I was guilty of. The day I told her I was bullied because of my body, and instead of comforting me, she asked if I truly was what they called me, rather than teaching me to fight back.
Oh, my younger self! how little you understood.
I see it clearly now. She corrected me so I would fear wrongdoing. She allowed certain struggles because she believed they would make me stronger.
I may not know much about other mothers, but mine taught me lessons that shaped my life. She taught me financial intelligence, self-dependence, and selflessness.
She would say:
“Sex cannot satisfy a man; men are satisfied by what keeps them going.”
“Your love is not measured by what you show in public, but what you do in private.”
“I love you because you are my child.”
“Do not let a man control you; marriage is not a cage, but a home for affection.”
“Work hard. The world celebrates success, not excuses.”
“Stand outside. If he forces you, drop everything and leave.”
As I grew older, I began to understand.
No one truly uses another in intimacy; both parties share in what they choose. Strength is not always loud; sometimes, what people call “rude” is simply courage refusing wrongdoing.
And yet, I was too busy to reflect on these truths.
My mother has always been my backbone; even in my writing journey. To her, every writer is a journalist, every voice matters.
Still, I corrected her impatiently. I got angry. I acted without thinking.
That stubbornness… that pride… it echoes in my mind now.
"There is no love like a mother’s love" that is what I was told.
Now, I understand.
A real mother corrects, encourages, and believes, even when you don’t believe in yourself.
That is my mother.
She looks at me and sees beauty where I once saw flaws. She calls my slim body elegant, says slender women carry grace in suits and corporate wear. She praises my brown skin, calling it radiant, so I never feel less.
She checked on me during school hours, and I thought she was disturbing me.
She believed my presence brought blessings, and I ignored that quiet faith.
Today, I forgive my younger self for not understanding.
If I had listened more, perhaps I would have made fewer mistakes.
Mother’s Day should not be a dat, it should be a daily remembrance.
To my mother…
You deserve more than words. You deserve an award; an Oscar for unconditional love.
Happy Mother’s Day.
— Chidimma Writes 🌹
Comments