Small, moist, insignificant words

I have found that now that I am becoming a woman, my mum inspires me to write. It is not because she is not well or because I no longer have her. My mum is still, as she has always been, by my side. I suppose I am writing because she is a hero and I want to give her all credit for the woman I am becoming. As a modern-day lyrical genius once said,
“People often don’t get flowers while they still can smell them”.

Someone once told me that girls’ relationship with their mothers only begin to strength when they hit 20. That someone was right. It is only through experience and the wonder of hindsight that I can start to understand what a hero woman my mum is.
Growing up, she did not always give me everything I wanted. But she made sure I had everything I needed. She taught me the power of family, of self-sacrifice and love. She taught me that before I can make anyone else happy, I have to learn to make myself happy. Before I embarked myself to self-love she also taught me that to everything in life, there is a balance even when you can’t seem to see it. She would often say that life does not give you more than you can carry. And it is true. Life, just like chemistry, works in equilibrium.
For a large part of my childhood and adolescence I did not have my mum. As any other child, at the time I thought getting away from all the nagging was a blessing. As an adult now, I see it as a pity that I did not get more time to listen to the life lessons she could have taught me.