By Jola Ayeye
It’s a different type of closeness when you live in a person’s body.
Every year there is the temptation to write empty but meaningful platitudes.
To talk about your grace and kindness and how you’ve been the best for all these years.
This year I want to thank you for the hard things, the uncomfortable things, the barely spoken of things.
The times you spent nauseous and sweaty or bowled over a toilet throwing up breakfast because I wasn’t feeling it.
For the swollen feet and cramped back and darker neck and uncomfortable, unwanted, extra weight.
For the delayed dreams and interrupted career.
For choosing me over the man you love sometimes, standing in between us and taking my side. Even when it was hard, especially when it was inconvenient
For the struggle to get back in the workforce while fighting feelings of guilt for choosing fulfillment outside motherhood.
For the pressure.
The immense pressure to have your best foot forward all the time and have me the best I can be
For the internal tussles you have over your competence.
Are you getting it right? Am I happy? Is this normal? Can I cope with the real world? Can the real world cope with me? Is this okay?
For fighting the urge to coddle me and fight my battles even in adulthood, hoping that I understand it is not that you don’t care, but that you care too much.
For the worn tires and discolored knees from pleading with God on my behalf.
For being there even when, no especially when its inconvenient
Because when you have lived in a person’s body it’s a different type of closeness
Thank you Mummy
Happy mothers day,
Jola Ayeye.