May 12, 2025
Everyday is a Mother's day
Mother’s Day always hits me from two directions — as a mother and as a daughter.
I’ve often cringed at the idea of assigning a single date to something as timeless as motherhood. And yet, I’ve softened too — because if nothing else, it nudges people to pause and remember. To reflect. To thank. To feel.
In 2024, I had a morning that shook me to the core. Amma, who always wakes up by 5 AM sharp — no alarms, no calls — didn’t stir till 8:30 AM. I stood close, listening for her breath, scared to touch her in case I woke her. From 5:30 to 8:30, time crawled in fear. When she finally woke up, I broke down. Two cups of coffee, two breakfasts, and an impromptu half-day off later, I found myself sitting beside her, watching a soap opera. She looked at me, puzzled — “What’s going on? Why aren’t you working?” I smiled and said, “I just wanted to be near you today.”
She nodded, smiled, and whispered, “It’s nice this way.”
That morning became a memory. We walked to the vegetable shop, the fruit stall — every stop along the way. No gifts, no greeting cards. Just time. That’s all she ever wanted.
Since that day, our morning coffees have been non-negotiable. In 2025, I planned a vacation — just the two of us. Varanasi. A city on her bucket list. We came back with MRIs, wheelchair pushes, and long talks about her spine. But secretly, both of us loved that trip. Yesterday, on Mother’s Day, we binge-watched The Royals on Netflix, laughed at our old dreams, and made new ones. No temples this time. No crowd. Just a promise to go somewhere luxurious — a palace maybe. Her eyes sparkled. And that sparkle was the only gift I needed.
These days, I treat every moment with Amma like a bonus round. Fifteen minutes of gossip, Tamil serial critiques, or spiritual TV without stepping out — they’ve been life-altering. Healing. Humbling.
Mothers don’t need much. Just your time. Your smile. Your health. My mother has never said I love you, or I’m proud of you. But in every silence, I’ve heard both loud and clear.
How was yours ?
