I remember those days when

holding her hands I

crossed the roads.

I remember those days when 

my mother fed me

with love.

I remember those days when

She offered to live through 

my pain.

I remember the days when 

her lap was 

my pillow.

I am sure when you travel down the spiralling lane of your memory you would recall incidents with your mother or father or any other loved one.

One of my fondest memories with my mother was when she used to comb my long hair, which touched my knees.  It was a ritual that started with applying oil to the scalp and the entire length of the silken hair. Then came the process of untangling it and plaiting it. This happened  some  years ago.

Now my mother is sixty years old , she is suffering from spondylosis, some nerve problem and old age. She has abused her body so much when she was young by slogging from the morning till the evening and has not been taking good care of herself. She cannot turn her head abruptly as it is difficult for her. I inherited my long hair from her.

Now there are days when she is so tired that she finds it difficult to untangle her hair.  Today I think it was one of those days and she came to me with a comb  and said, “will you comb my hair dear?”

Wordlessly I took the comb from her and did her the service that she did to me for years.  With the same love and care that she showed me when she did my hair, I did hers.

Our roles were reversed now, I became the mother and she was my child as it has been happening for time immemorial. And I remembered going shopping with her a couple of days where I held her hand and guided her through a road crossing. 

I find myself at a crossroads in life where every son and daughter find themselves in, to be the mother or father to your parent.

What a mighty responsibility!!!!!!!!!

I had tears in my eyes when I plaited her hair. Mom who was always invincible needs my help and as time passes by is going to need it more. Am I ready for that? Do I have the courage to see her becoming dependent on others as time passes on. 

I do not know. This I know , as she was there whenever I needed her , to pick me up after a fall, to console me when I had a fight with my friends, to  stand by when I went through my adolescent crushes and guided me to the right path when I wavered.

Now I am trying to fill her shoes and am scarred that those may not fit me but that will not stop me from trying.

To all those daughters and sons who find themselves in the other end, being the mother or father to their own parents enjoy the reversal in roles. They may like it or may not like it but be ready to give them the help when it is needed.

Kavini

 

 

 

Advertisements