And I received it today. All because I wrote a wimpish post yesterday. In her book, it was enough to indict me.
When I hit the publish button on my previous post, I have forgotten who I am. I am my mother’s son. My mother was a loving person but she was also strong willed. In her youth, she used to travel to Manila to bring supplies to my eldest siblings who were in college. She had with her all sorts of fresh vegetables, a couple of live chickens, and sometimes a sack of rice. At the pier, she fought off stevedores with her signature stoic demeanor. She’d stomp her foot on top of her assorted baggage and ward off pesky pier hands with her emphatic no.
Of course, she couldn’t carry them all by herself. But she could not be pushed. Let her decide on her own sweet time which lucky hands to help her with her things.
Sure, I inherited my father’s thirst for learning and writing, but it was mother’s discipline and stoutness of heart that will serve me well in blogging. My mother was one of the most loving persons I’ve ever known who at a moment’s notice could go feral on you when her brood was threatened. My father was maybe one of those rare breed whose love never strays, but I suspect my mother’s flash of steel had a lot to do with my father keeping to the straight and narrow path of marriage.
I used to pride myself I have my mother’s stubborn streak. It has never occurred to me my mother’s spunk was the more important trait. I am my mother’s son. And I have forgotten it.
I have to start anew.
Do you have a similar experience? Who do you give the credit to when you talk of the steadying influence in your life?If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!