End of My Childhood

Even as an adult, a mother myself at that, when I feel really sick, I still want my mom.  Most of the time, she couldn’t come to me anyway, but I always felt comforted knowing that if she could, she would and she would make me some yummy Korean comfort soup or porridge.  She would pat me my back, give me a cold compress if I need it, but mostly she would just be there taking care of me.

Who else in one’s life provides that role better than a mother?  Yes, my dad has taken care of me, too, but it just isn’t the same.

Last night I didn’t feel well at all.  I felt nauseous and shaky and just so sick.  And the first thought that popped into my head was that I wanted my mom.  Then I realized that sooner or later, no matter how much I want my mom, she won’t be around.

Last night, I saw the beginning of the end of my childhood.  Not the childhood of playgrounds that I left a long time ago, but the childhood of where I’m still someone’s baby.  So I cried last night for the end of my childhood.

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