Her

She has a different way of nurturing. I was brought up to solve my own problems and issues with a belief that my every action now will lead to consequences in the future, which I have to bear. She would not say a single word when I told her about my results. The results could be excellent, satisfactory or poor; she would not blink an eye because it would be a consequence I have to bear. I see how she works hard, for my living, without complaints. When others thought that she was mere fulfilling my material needs, she thought otherwise. She knew that is the best she could do. She did not complete her primary school education, yet she tries her very best to provide for me. I see her struggles, her frustration and her determination. Day in, day out, she is busy with work and tired from work. I used to be wilful with the thought that she was not spending enough time with me. Until I see how she fought to pay the bills, the education loans and all that monetary involvement, I quieted down as reality struck me. I see the need to be independent and sensible. She has made me learned by myself, willing yet unknowingly. She may not be the one who know my best, nor would she be the one who understand me. In my eyes, she is still no other than a wonder woman. She is my mother.

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