Mother(land)

Since young, I have felt this passionate love and patroitism towards my Mother--a love so insurmountable that nothing could ever waver my fortitude about growing up, aging and finally dying within her embrace.

But as I grew older, I saw people around me leaving to countries I'd only visited in dreams. And then, there're also people coming back, and they bring with them tales of exotic foreign lands--joyous and animated in its every remembered detail...

I began to think, and imagined myself travelling, living in these places. I decide that one day I shall travel to them all, maybe even live in their cities and farms for a few years. For, Mother is too hot. She is too crowded and mundane. Mother, who is made up of nothing but concrete and marble.

But eventually, there is always something endearing about Mother--her ability to tug at my heartstrings, winding me back, without resorting to forceful means.

Tonight, as I lie in bed, I will think about the things that defines me as her child.

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