Muma

My mother is a powerhouse.

My earliest memories are visions of a beautiful, independent, graceful woman. My mother was a single parent for the first six years of my life. My father worked abroad and mum raised us three hyper kids. It was not an easy task but she did it!

I remember my mother reading Peter Pan to my brothers and me at bedtime. I also remember us laughing and chasing her around the house as she ran with letters from my father. She was always so excited when the mailman arrived.

The mother from my memories is different from my mother today. Numerous health complications has affected her skin, her weight, her pace, and even her outgoing personality. I notice the impact of her struggles in her eyes sometimes. But like all mothers, my mum never complains and always smiles.

I admire my mother in ways I cannot express with words. But perhaps I can show her my admiration, respect and love through actions.

One challenging action in particular.

I want to run for my mother.

I have never been a runner. Actually I am quite out of shape at the moment. Running a marathon has been on my to-do list or new year’s resolutions for a while but the time has come.

Today, I begin.

I dedicate this to you, ma.