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Would Mother’s Day be defunct if everyday is mother’s day? Calling you every night before bed when we’re 406km apart to cry about my woes and worries or laugh about that funny thing that happened in class today or have a heated debate about things we don’t agree on (which literally just happened 10 minutes ago), I don’t know about you, but everyday feels like Mother’s Day to me?

Growing up, never once did you give up on me even when I already gave up on myself, and you were always there during my lowest point when I didn’t even think I was worthy of anyone’s attention and all you did was give and give so selflessly, and that’s saying a lot considering how difficult a daughter I must be to deal with. Trust me, if I were in your shoes, I might not even have had the same patience as you. And I am so, so grateful for every single thing you’ve done for me.

Culturally, we’ve never been ones to express our gratitude and affection verbally and I think it’s my fear of veering from that tradition that prompted me to write this blogpost (and also I think I deliver my thoughts better in the form of the written word rather than the spoken one). Dear Mummy, thank you for taking the best care of me since day one, for teaching me how to love reading and books at the mere age of 5, for being worried for me when I locked myself in the fitting room in Pacific Mall when I was about 6 (?), for switching jobs when I entered Primary 1 so that you could look after me better, for coaching me to speak louder in class when I was appointed monitor and could barely speak above a whisper, for preparing breakfast and lunch for me almost everyday to bring to primary school, for staying up late to search the entire house for my purple English book I needed for class the next day, for demanding your way into MCA headquarters just so you could guarantee a spot for me in one of the best secondary schools in the state, for asking me what’s wrong when I came back from school crying almost every day, for teaching me how to be as selfless as you and treat people better as I grew up and stepped into more daunting environments, for all the appeals you’ve made on behalf of me to the school just so I could live my school days better, for always giving me motivational pep talks when I was feeling anxious before exams, for knowing when not to spoil me to build my character (and not make me an asshole), for being there and smiling so broadly at me when I got my SPM results (aka your birthday present), for planning all those “surprise” birthday parties for me because you know how much I love surprises, for being more nervous for college than I was, for calling up first few days of college to make sure I made friends, for putting up with my relentless whining and moping and complaining over the phone until this day, for saying “goodnight, love you” every night before we hang up, and most importantly, for loving me unconditionally. I love you just as much, Mummy, and I want to make you the proudest and happiest you’ve ever been.

Published by

Michelle Teoh

26-year-old cynical Asian, book enthusiast and purveyor of fine sarcasm.

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