A letter to my children,
In the past, you were tripping, falling, whining; but today it is me who keeps stumbling behind you.
This is our story. We grew up together. When you were yapping babies, I carried you, hugged you and held you warmly; I rocked your cradles gently till you relaxed and enjoyed sweet slumber.
You played together and giggled, filling not only the house with joy, but also my life. I was enthused with every step you took, every word you pronounced, every skill you developed.
I returned from work and you were right at my heels, on top of my shoulders following like my shadow as I hustled from this room to the other. I sometimes kicked, jostled or even yelled at you; but you were not detained. You still followed, overjoyed to be close.
Year in year out, you grew taller. You could cycle, swim, play soccer and basketball. You moved from this school campus to that. I was enthralled and could not believe my little tots are now athletic champions and high school students. Even then you still followed closely: she claiming that her dream was to be a mom; he shadowing me in class.
Then you went to University: he abroad, she at home. Growing up amazingly fast, maturing, and becoming completely independent. I watched with delight; happy for his fast independence and hers. The secrets, private night calls, love stories of which I was given a hint here and a hint there delighted me; but I was still the reference. They came to me for advice, a friendly chat, a preferred opinion.
Today, we are here: on the other side of the Atlantic, in a far away spot. I feel secure following you. It is hard to keep up with your fast pace, your intimacy with technology, your adventurous spirit so I keep stumbling behind you and you slow down to give me a chance to catch up.
We have exchanged places rather untimely for me because I would still love to take care of you.