I’m on my way to Manhattan with a good 20 minutes or so to my ride. All dressed up with a pair of heels in a handy bag, I’m all set for a fine dining experience with the son. It feels good to be celebrating with him. Everyone can celebrate any other holiday with me, but this one, is strictly between him and I.
So 19 years a mother now— and I’m praying for more years. At the same time, I think about my mom who is 10,000 miles away, whose aging seems to have been accelerated by an injury she suffered just a couple of weeks ago. She molded me into the mother that I am now, and then some.
I go home every year only because she is still around. I know that the annual trips home will stop when she is no longer there, so for now, I do my best to make it home. The only lull was the pandemic, and those three years spanning 2020 to much of 2022 were the most difficult to bear when I thought of her. And finally, in November of 2022, I made it back. I even made it for her birthday in March this year.
On the other side, it has been a year of adjustment for the son and I. He moved out in the fall to begin his BFA in Film not too far away, and I felt a profound sense of loss as my daily routine and life, in general, changed. It’s a relief (although a surprise) that the usual 10 month academic calendar was only 8 for them. I get to have him back for the next 4 months until he can move back into the dorm again.
I’m a proud mother but part of me wants to hold on to him longer. I try to console myself with the fact that he is thriving, which shows me that I have done a good job of preparing him for the world.
Whether you are a mom to someone you carried in your womb for 9 months, or someone who has been your child for whatever period of time, I take my hat off to you. Today, the world recognizes us all, and my hope is that the one who calls you “mum” does the same and gives you that warm hug you deserve and more.
Pinay New Yorker 