When

In the eyes of a mother, her children will never be grown up, never be able to take care of themselves. That's why Mom will pack up packages of meat and chicken and fish and fruits and detergent and dish washer and this and that for me to bring along as I return to KL, after spend some time with them at home. She'd say it's fresher or cheaper where she gets those. As usual, I'd not take any, keep those home so she and dad and enjoy them. I'd ask her to spend the money on herself, and reassure her I'm taking good care of myself.

Mom stretches every penny, saves on anything and everything and keeps the money stashed up for us kids.

I just want Mom to enjoy life, live a little, indulge a little, splurge a little.

It's like we both stand at the different end of the bridge, spanning across a very wide gorge. Water under the bridge is roaring past, loud.

When are we moving to either side of the gorge together? Or when are we meeting each other in the middle of the bridge?

Guilt-ridden, I want to cry.

Happy Mothers' Day, Ma.