Years later, I walked through the corridors and across the grounds of my school and college. This walk, I had always wanted to take with my son—for I wanted him to see and feel the places where I had grown up.
Yes, the scene was completely different from what he was accustomed to. The landmarks had changed. The school, the environment, even the educators were no longer the same. But he walked beside me as if exploring a maze. I was proudly reminiscing old stories, filled with inherent nostalgia. I knew they might be exciting only for me.
But as I watched my son asking questions, listening intently, and sharing his own observations about how he felt seeing me in that moment... it was an unexplainable feeling.
He playfully teased me, making up small poems about me and what he imagined I must have been like. From what I heard from him—and from what I wished he would take away from that day—I jotted down a few lines.
Let this too remain here, as part of my beautiful memories.
As her face brushed against that sweet cold air,
Bright was her smile with her flowing hair...
I gasped, I rushed, to keep with her steps so fast,
As she, my momma, walked me through her past.
Like a child, she strode the way in her usual flair,
Her college, her school, she laughed as if in a fun fair.
I visioned, I guessed, her long lost memories so vast,
As she, my momma, walked me through her past.
A moral to every tale, she would always have for me
For she believed in living through what we see.
I derived, I learnt, from every single question she cast,
As she, my momma, walked me through her past.
Just like the pieces that never matched from a jigsaw,
Was the life that she has seen and the life that I saw.
I’m glad, I thanked, for her loving care that would outlast
As she, my momma, walked me through her past.
I knew, these are not mine and will never be mine
But for me, her memories would always shine.
I knew, I live, as her strength and her weakness
Just as she is for me, my mentor, my harness.
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