Why I Hate My Mom (A Mother’s Day Special)
May 4, 2008I hate my mom.
Maybe some of you hate yours, too, while others don’t. Some of you may hate your dad, or your brother, or your sister. Maybe you hate your pakialamera tita or your braggart of a tito. But not me. Because for me, the object of my wrath is my mom. Yep, you heard that right: my mom. Wanna know why? I’ll come to that in a few minutes but first, let me tell you something about her.
My mom is a working mother. I never got to see her that much when I was younger. She helped (and is still helping) my father put food on our table. Being both public servants, she would work long hours to augment the income of my father. The money they earned was used to send me and my siblings into good schools because they believed that what we lack in material things, they could make up in giving us quality educations. She taught me how to fend for myself. She taught me how to study and to rely on my own. She has always been around to support my every decision and to gently correct me in my mistakes. She watched me grow from afar but was always around when I needed someone to comfort me. Words need not be said when I am with my mom. She smiles in my joy, cries in my pain and soothes my fear. Most of all, my mom is one of my four pillars of strength.
"But why do you hate her?", you might ask. I hate her because of all the things I learned from her, there was one thing she forgot to teach me: she never taught me how NOT to miss her while I am here.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This was my impromptu speech when we were asked to deliver one during our IAP class. I was crying halfway through it and almost didn’t get to finish it. Our lecturer honestly thought I hate my mom. I don’t. I actually love her so much. I got quite a good review for this piece.
This one’s for you Nanay. I love you. Happy Mother’s Day.
All comments are moderated. Your comments will not appear here unless approved by the blog owner. Thank you.
