Deepthi Claude is a third-year undergraduate at the University of Toronto majoring in Health and Diseases, and Physics. She is an occasional writer who enjoys the art of expressing and evoking feelings through her short pieces.
To all the mothers and children who feel misunderstood
I was three when you dropped me off at school with two pairs of eyes filled with tears. You helped wipe my tears while still being firm to make sure I got the education that I deserved and needed. It was my first day at kindergarten and I was afraid. You were all that I’d ever known, given that dad was working in another city. I woke up to your voice and warm cuddles; you fed me, bathed me, taught me how to play, read, and write, read me stories at night and lulled me to sleep by singing my favourite lullabies. I never heard you complain, although it would’ve been frustrating and hard to have done it all alone and with no one to offer you support. I didn’t make it easy for you either. Yet you never lost patience but, rather, made sure you provided me with a space in which I could grow without having any issues hindering my path.
The next time I can properly recall, I was six. You knew I sang well but you also knew that I did not like being separated from you. So, you would slather mosquito repellents on every inch of your exposed skin to sit outside my vocal class. I would come out in the middle of the class to ensure that I wasn’t abandoned, only to see you waving at me. I would go back to class, completely at peace, feeling supported, reassured, and loved without knowing that the effect of the mosquito repellent had long worn off and that you were sitting outside while swarms of mosquitoes were having a go at you. After class, you brought me back home and listened to me when I wanted to tell you about every minute detail that happened during class. I then proceeded to throw a tantrum over wanting a sibling right that very moment. You calmed me down and told me that one day, I could have one — and I did when you had my brother.
Then, I was suddenly fifteen. I started going out more with friends. I started spending a little time outside to have fun. But I would never step out of the house before telling you or making sure that I had your approval to do so. I still tell you everything that goes on in my life. I enjoy spending time with you and gain the benefit of all your cuddles. You occasionally complained about me spending a little too much time outside and I was occasionally mad at you for not being understanding of the ‘little’ independence that I got.
Eventually, I was eighteen. I started going to the university that I picked to pursue post-secondary education. I was swamped with classes but, somehow, I also found the time to hang out with friends more often. In the same fashion, I got involved more in my college community and started staying out late. I always came home but gradually the time spent with you decreased and I answered your queries about the day with a simple “It was fine.” I told myself that I was simply too tired from the day to talk about it with you but deep down I knew I felt distant from you because every time you brought up the fact that I was staying out late without informing you first, I felt like you just wanted to pick on me. Over the course of a few months, this escalated to heated arguments and talks about independence and respect that further pulled us apart.
Now I’m hardly a month away from turning twenty. You just told me that the reason you were worried about me staying out late is because I don’t spend enough time with you and that leaves you feeling like you are losing me. I find it so adorable and also a little ridiculous that I laugh but then I see tears in your eyes and I am reminded of the tears that I witnessed when you first dropped me off at school. I try to jump into your arms but I don’t fit in there the same way I did when I was three or eight or fifteen. Maybe because I’m hardly a month away from being twenty now. But you fit very well in my arms. So, that is what we do. I assure you that you will never lose me to anybody or anything in this world because nothing comes between the bond that a child and mother share. There are other relationships of the same intensity, but they involve different emotions. As such, there exists a unique bond that transcends the physical self between a mother and her child, and I am fortunate to have this relationship. I will always love you for the woman that you are and for the woman that you raised me to be.
Love,
Your daughter
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