Dear Mother, with love

Dear Mother,

I saw something really nice, really touching on Facebook recently. "Celebrate your birthday with your mother; it's her special day too."

It's been months since I last spent some time with you. Months since I last heard your voice across the room. My third consecutive birthday spent without your loving embrace has left me feeling shallow and empty, and for the third time, I'm busy living this life of mine as everyone else is spending the day with their mothers, celebrating Mother's Day. 

Gosh, it makes me feel so empty.

You'll remember this; when I was five or six, I had this little soft toy which was surprisingly a Manchester United mascot. That memory recently came to mind, the exact moment I asked you, 'What's his name?' and you replied, 'Let's call him Chester.' 

That was one of the many times I had looked to you for an answer to any and every little curiosity I had, and every moment with you, knowing that you were there if I ever needed you, I grew. I became a better person because of you, how you would hold my hand when I crossed the road, how it came upon me years later to hold your hand to help you cross the road too. Those mornings you made us breakfast even though cooking was never your biggest passion, and the other mornings when I made you scrambled eggs and baked beans just because I didn't know any better. Those afternoons you spent sitting me down and teaching me numbers, and those afternoons that you would mail me a document to help you make a project out of, all of those moments. 

Even those days when you would book your flight for work and I'd hug you goodnight the night before, and then those nights when you would fuss over my luggage as I packed to fly off the next morning. Also, those moments that you'd scold me for one thing or the other, and I would try to make it up to you by buying you little snacks and drinks whenever I got out of the house. 

It's been three years now since I called another apartment my home. I miss waking up to you walking in loudly, telling me I'm sleeping too much. I miss sending you a text message to tell you I'll be late in coming home. I also miss your incessant worrying about my homework, and God knows just how much I miss you.

So much has changed in me in my time being away from you. We had dreams, dreams that I will achieve a certain career and path in life, and you worked so goddamn hard to get me there, at least as far as you could with your two hands. I've found passions for so much more now, and I know that in more ways than one I would be disappointing you, going against what you had by default expected of me. But nevertheless, you have never failed in showing your support. You've always given me that push to go further, achieve more and just be happier, and through my darkest times and not, you've been the wind beneath my wings, forever lifting me higher. Without all that you've taught me, without all your cheer and without all your love, I wouldn't be even close to where I am now, and today, I would like to celebrate all that I am as appreciation for all that you've made me into. 

Mother's Day isn't only a celebration of the amazing women like you, Mum. It's a day we celebrate how much you've done for al of us that call you mother. It's a day we celebrate the sanctity of love in its most honest and overpowering form, a love born even before two souls look into each other's eyes. It's also a day to appreciate the very breath you're taking now because you are here on this world because of someone, or in some cases even if the mother that raised you isn't the one that gave you life, you're alive and well, stronger than you ever were, standing tall and proud because of the love of a mother. 

Mummy, you mean the world to me. My destiny looks bumpy, with a lot of things that you would have wished I'd done differently, but I'll always strive to make you proud.

Dear Mum, 

I've made it so far, I'm living my dream. 

I hope you're proud of me.

I love you,

Your son, and your biggest fan,
Axam

Blue Funk - 4

"Do you ever just stare outside and wonder about how amazing it is watching people go from point A to point B?"

It was raining now, the thunder playing that fun game with the lightning, trying to outbid the other in magnificence. In my opinion, Lightning was winning. I like lights more than thunderous noise, but hey, that's just me.

They were on the 21st floor, facing south, her eyes drinking in the amazing view of the clash between humanity and nature. Humanity with its persistent flood of concrete appendages upon that landscape owned by nature, and nature with her green arms of flora and fauna snaking through the buildings that were built. He put his camera down, wondering how to answer her question. It was a good question, as questions came, phrased well, the point not lost while at the same time making an opinion of her own, yet--

"Hello, are you listening to me?" she smiled as she said it, and he smiled in return. She was good at keeping his attention, but today was different. 

"It is, isn't it? Every pair of headlights you see through the gloom of the rain is another portion of the universe, experiencing itself like no one ever did. Countless memories that make up that one particular mind, and the countless interactions that mind has with others through the course of the day before finally getting into that beast on four wheels that carries them home. If one doesn't find wonder in that, one barely appreciates the joy of living."

She was watching him as he spoke, "You always had a way with words, but I bet everyone says that to you..." She walked towards the balcony doors, unlocked them with a click and drew them apart. The wind was always a blessing, now misty with the vapor of the heavy rain, floating in as if beckoned by the occupants to come and caress, embrace them. He watched her as she absently emptied her pockets, "You got a spare towel?" to which he nodded. She smiled that cheeky smile of hers as she walked out.

He didn't pick up the camera, but he captured every moment. She was graceful, probably pretending to be a ballerina, as the water, heavy and thick as God-sent as it was, bathed her blue. The colors of the moment were blue, blue, blue, slashing his vision with that occasional white as the lightning reigned supreme. Haha, pun intended, he thought. 

She was soaked now, her laugh pealing out musically as she spun around, a few cold drops gracing his face too. He couldn't help but smile, "Come join me! This is so much fun oh gosh!" He could hear the slight quiver in her voice as she shivered in the cold. For only a moment, he worried about her, and then the feeling passed. She stopped her dancing and looked at him.

"Why do you take pictures? I always wondered."

"Maybe for the art of the final product? Maybe for the feeling I get when I immortalise a beautiful moment, in a way which everyone can see and relate to, get their own meaning from." He took a deep breath, looking her right in the eye, looking for an answer. "Every time I have a session, I feel like I'm unravelling another universe, a universe with countless memories that make up that one particular mind, and the countless interactions that mind has with others through the course of their lives. What makes you, you? Nobody stops and asks these questions anymore, nobody cares yet they yearn for someone to care about them." He picked up the camera again, finding her face through the viewfinder, "And when I look through these lenses, I find something different everytime, something beautiful, something raw, something magical..."

Her eyes were soul-searchingly deep now, and in that moment he knew, he was the subject.

"Find me, as I am," she said, slowly gripping the bottom of her shirt. As she lifted it up, over her head, and then dropped it wet and heavy and thick onto the floor, he couldn't understand. The moment was pristine, the water coursing down the crevice on her chest in torrents as the rain kept falling, kept pelting her. Her hair was slick and flat, drawing an intricate map of paths from her crown onto her collar bones, some cutting across her eyes, hiding the gaze that deciphered his very existence. With hands that were free, she unbuttoned her jeans, catching him completely off-guard and vulnerable. 

"Find me, as I am", she repeated, and for the life of him, he could not tell if this was a dream or reality. The moment defied all logic, as the camera in his hand stayed immobile, his eyes only peering through the glass of the viewfinder. Here he was at the pinnacle of his inspiration, the game of the rain, lightning and thunder adding magic to all that he was feeling. Afraid of what he might find, with much hesitation he lowered the camera, blinked a few times as the mist of the rain hit his eyes, and watched her again. There she was , before him as she was, her chest heaving up and down in the motion of the long breaths she was taking. Her lips were parted only slightly, giving him the impression she wanted him to say something yet she had something to say too.

"Find me, as I always was." 

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The camera battery slowly winked out over the next few hours.