The Heart of a Mother

For three consecutive months, my mother has given me my monthly supply of Mary Grace’s Velvet Cake. It’s my fave. But this time, she brought home something that is familiar on the outside, yet as I opened the box to look inside, I was surprised to see something different from what I used to get. It was impulse that made me say out loud, “Wha– this is not velvet cake?!”

Not velvet cake…

My mom has been under a medication for her neck/shoulder/spine the past few months and it affects her memory a little. Sometimes she forgets details, she’s always sleepy, she’s becoming a little slower than usual, and she’s getting bigger (but I’m keeping my mouth shut on that subject). But all these are just temporary. They will get away once she recuperates.

Anyway, lately, I’ve been working my ass off, juggling my job–which is great because I was able to get a work-from-home arrangement approved by our management—and house chores.  I (partially) clean the house, cook, water the plants, do laundry, etc, all while having a fulltime job to keep. Two years ago I was not like this. I will only do things because I have no choice, but now that I get to think of my mom’s welfare first before my own makes it easier to handle all these things. I don’t see them now as part of my responsibility, but more like a passion. I am obsessed with doing everything for my mother. Besides, she’s the best mom anyone could ever have! She’s not getting any younger, she has sacrificed a LOT for me and for this family, and now it’s time to start giving back.

My reaction when I saw the cake was just reflex…

It was impulse that made me say out loud, “Wha– this is not velvet cake?!” I wasn’t thinking. When I turned to look at her, I noticed her expression drastically changed from excitement to total frustration. “I’m sorry ha? I forgot you wanted velvet.” Yep, that was instant guilt I felt. If I was only that simple to take back what I just said! I bit my tongue.

It’s chocolate cake…

Now, I am on my second serving, and as I devour this slice, I realized, my mother might be getting old—her skin started to wrinkle already, her memory fails her sometimes, and she gets OC a lot—but one thing is for sure, her heart will always be that of a mother who truly cares for her daughter. She will always be this thoughtful, understanding, passionate mom.  See, the mind forgets but the heart does not.

I asked her if she want some so she could taste (so I can get rid of it before it expires), and guess what? Of course she declined my offer. She’s unbelievable!

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