For My Mum

   I know I said I was taking a break, but I think I’m addicted to writing. Hmm well technically it’s not an addiction because addiction is any compulsive behavior that has a negative impact on your life; writing definitely brings the best out of me. Well not to deviate from the main point here, I was wondering why I was in a gloomy mood today and then it struck me that today is Mother’s day back in Nigeria and I miss my mum. In many countries around the world, Mother’s Day is in May but I guess ours is different. My mum is my best friend, she is everything a mother should be and I love her for that.

   I’m going to be writing an open letter to my mum with all my love. Mum in case you ever come across my website, this is for you and I hope that you will be proud of me.

Dear Mom,
  There is so much I want to say but honestly I do not know where to begin, you have gone through so much in years. Many of us know there is always good and bad when you are being raised as a child, but I would have to say you did an excellent job with raising all of us.

  When I was young I remember you bandaging my knees and kissing my cheeks. You taught all of us how to be little ladies and men, you certainly did not wish for us to act like spoiled little brats! We learned manners, how to sit, when to keep our skirts down and our trousers up. Spankings were allowed when we were growing up and it hasn't seemed to harm me in anyway, it certainly did not make me cold or bitter.  A spanking here and there, it made me respects your point and now I realize what a hard head I was, but mom that is another discussion.

  I have always being optimistic and truly I try to find good in everyone, even when they upset me or break my heart. I have gotten that from you, people may say that you are naive', but what I believe is that you have given me a gift, it has been a beautiful gift, how many people can say that there heart is so giving? You have giving me the gift of being creative, strength and belief in myself. You see mom although we may not have always met eye to eye on certain things you supported me regardless if I was wrong. You gave me wings to fly when I was young and pushed me out of the nest, the love you had when we hit the ground was the most unconditional love any mother could give. You let me back into the nest to gather my feathers and let me fly again until I was able to fly on my own.

  At the time I left for Uni at age 17 I mostly felt relief. I wanted to get out of the house more than anything in the world but it took me many years to begin to understand the love and care that you provided me when I was younger. Though you seldom or maybe never received a word of thanks, you cooked for me, bought and washed my clothes, arranged for me to take lessons, and went to work for me. Mostly you heard complaints and how I made noises when I wanted something I didn't have. Thank you for your patience, love and care for those first 17 years of my life. Thank you for making sure I had food when I came home. Thank you for encouraging me in school. All of your concrete efforts became part of me.

  There are so many more stories that I could write about but you know that they are wonderful memories forever etched in my heart and locked in a precious box in my mind and that I thank you from the bottom of my heart to the tips of my toes. I wish you a heartfelt, happy mother's day!!
Your Lovely Daughter

P. S.
Below is a quaint poem I recited a lot when I was little, I’m sure we’ve all come across this poem at one point in our childhood.  It is called “My Mother”. It was written by Ann Taylor (1783 –1866). She’s the sister of Jane Taylor, the author of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Ann and Jane published books of rhymes and poems together.

My Mother
Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush’d me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My Mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rock’d me that I should not cry?
My Mother.

Who sat and watched my infant head,
When sleeping in my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who dress’d my doll in clothes so gay,
And taught me pretty how to play.
And minded all I had to say?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God’s holy book and day.
And walk in Wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who was so very kind to me?
My Mother

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My Mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and gray,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away.
My Mother

And when I see thee hang thy head,
‘Twill be my turn to watch thy bed.
And tears of sweet affection shed,
My Mother.

For could our Father in the skies
Look down with pleased or loving eyes,
If ever I could dare despise
My Mother.