I Love You Mom

 

 

It’s the weekend, 7:35 AM, and I’ve just woken up. The sun is shining brightly. It’s a beautiful morning. I have a busy day ahead. I checked my calendar and realized it’s time for my hair wash and color. I usually do this every couple of weeks, and with everyone still asleep, it’s the best time to tackle it.

In Canada, there’s more land than people, and houses are quite spacious. We have five washrooms in total: two in the basement, one on the main floor, one in the master bedroom with a standing shower and tub, and one upstairs near the bedrooms. I mostly use the upstairs one.

When I visit my daughters in England, I have to adjust to using one washroom for the whole family. It must be tough for them too. People are adaptable; we can adjust to any situation. I don’t mind the one washroom—I love being there with my daughters and especially with my grandkids.

They’re busy with their work and university, and flying over for a visit is a long journey. I understand it’s not practical for them to make that trip frequently. I don’t blame them; they have the right to enjoy their lives and spend time with their own chosen company.

We need to put ourselves in their shoes before making judgments. We shouldn’t expect too much from anyone, even our own children. When we were their age, we were focused on our own lives and didn’t have much time to spend with our parents. We never thought they’d be gone before we had a chance to be with them freely. Now that we have time, they aren’t here. I wish she could be watching over me. I love you, Mom. I miss you.

It’s now 10:30 AM. I’ve finished my breakfast and my hair color. Time for a walk. I’m at the coffee house—it’s a bit quiet here. A few people my age are enjoying their time in groups, and a few youngsters are around, though not many. The drive-through is busy. I’m enjoying my time alone with a small coffee. Life is good.