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.