"Her Day"

She’s the woman.

Mama- a term deeply embedded in my system. No single day can wash out this single word from my mouth. I mean for those days that we are together. The days whenever I got home from my university study that is too far from our hometown. Nevertheless, I owe a lot from her, so to speak.

Me and my mother taken last December 2010

I am 18 by now standing proud to have the one like her from my infancy to this 18^th year of my existence. When in doubt, I ask her. When bombarded by choices that complicate my decision to choose, I call her attention as an extension of my ever-stressed brain. From the kind of food to eat, from the designs of t-shirt to buy, from the clothes to wear on occasions, from the type of friends to have, she always has a say. Anyway, her advices, preaches, sermons, are mostly solicited. Yes, I still can’t stand alone. That is, when I’m with her because I’m compelled to struggle on my own in the city where I study and where there’s no more “mama” to ask for.

Tease me by calling a “mama’s boy” for I’ll tell you that this left me of no choice. My father left the family since when I was in Grade 2. My elder brothers and sister were far from us. What remains in our day to day lifestyle in the house is me and my mother. So I tell you by now that she washes my clothes along with hers. That explains why her approval is needed for my clothes to wear on occasions and or any trips.

She has an air of authority and of which most mothers out there possess. I remember when I was once a “stray child” acting like there’s no house to permanently stay; I used to play on the street together with some other playmates. That normally happens on the days of summer- the most exciting season for kids and also perhaps for adults.  Those days went out for whole day play time to the extent of forgetting meal times- an attitude which my mother never forgives. I was beaten for escaping meal times. That day, my friends clapping off their hands on the street, a signal assigned to their presence outside the house waiting for my presence to come out and play, but to no avail, I was not permitted and my appetite then on playing outside with friends diminished. So I’m no more in to that matter.

Now I spent most of my days in Tacloban City- the place where I study as an “iskolar ng bayan, iskolar para sa bayan”. It earned a lot of support from my mother. I remember myself always having a “pasalubong” whenever she got home from her hometown in Panglao, Bohol. There were days when I drop by the terminal in the city to claim my mother’s presents like Bohol’s “calamay” and my favorite “piyaya”. I also received pack of sliced bread and even pack of powdered milk and too many more.

Then I always thanked her through the power of technology. I always leave her a message of thanks in her cellphone number and sometimes we spent talking with pleasantries. And sometimes, when I checked my cellphone, I received messages like, “Have you already eaten your breakfast? Don’t forget your milk”. Funny isn’t it? But that what makes a mother. Thank you and happy mother’s day!