Memories of Mother

Okay, I guess I CAN remember some times when my mother wasn’t a bitch.

I DO know we had good times together before.

I KNOW we shared laughs before.

Problem is, the memories are all blurry. They happened when I was barely in P3. Most of them happened before I started Elementary School.

I remember “Raindrops Falling On My Head”, my mom used to sing me that song whenever it was raining. She would croon and tap my head rhythmically at the same time. I would grow drowsy and fall asleep in her arms, hearing the pitter-patter of the rain and feeling the touch of her fingers tapping. Then she’d put me in my crib and I would be satisfied.

That was a nice memory.

An ancient memory, regrettably.

Now, she wouldn’t even sing. She won’t even wake me up to tell me to sleep in my own bed. 

I remember playing Monopoly with her. Counting the paper money, eagerly reading the Chance cards… Now, she would yell at me for asking to play Monopoly with her because it was such a childish game and I was not studying or reading a Chinese book. She’d even let me go on Facebook so I would not ask her to play Monopoly!

So, it’s my dad and me now. Or my friends...

I remember I woke up from a bad dream and I started crying loudly. My mom would come into the room and cradle me in her arms and say “aw, don’t cry, it’s okay.” Then she would turn on the evening news and I would stop crying and get confused by the LegCo members of Hong Kong. For some reason, it calmed me down. I missed it when she would smile at me and comfort me.

Now, when I had a bad dream, my mom wouldn’t even care less.

I remember reading my storybooks with her. She’d go “Why is there apostrophe S there?” or “What is the name?”… Lame silly questions… But I liked it. On rainy days, we’d watch Winnie the Pooh cartoons or Sesame Street together. Then I would fall asleep afterwards and wake up for dinner.

Now, on rainy days, she would force me into my room and give me a damn Chinese book to read or something.  

The most recent good memory was about four years ago when I was about to start P3, the last year of lower primary. I was talking about my future. How fast I was growing up, how cool it was going to get a job or something when I was an adult. She would beam at me encouragingly.

Now, she would laugh at my dreams like it was a fat pile of garbage and say whatever.

I know I’m a bit too old to be comforted and stuff but I would like some of it from my own mom once in a while, not every ten years.

So if you see my mom laughing, smiling, having fun with me in the next five years, you are very lucky. Because I doubt it’ll happen.