She’s there always. Running around, mostly for us. For our abode, what we call home. Catching a random K-saga in the middle. Teaching the same things endlessly maybe. Taking us shopping, or helping us with our projects. Deciding on what one of us would want to eat. Putting up with our tantrums. Maybe scolding us a bit of talking too much on the phone. Maybe being extra nice, tolerating. Maybe compromising. Leaving her novel aside, being on time, pushing us around-so that we meet our goals.
Either we are horrible kids, or she is way too nice.
Maybe she has her dreams, unfulfilled. Her friends, her family. Her ideas, her personal goals-maybe blended into ours. A vacation or two, an outing once a week, shopping to make her happy, some jewellery to bring that smile? Jokes to make her laugh, news to keep her going…somethings incomplete, somethings never imagined. Living this life, contemplating the past, not worrying about herself.
Is she happy?