Whenever I walk in my parents’ room, I pass by this square red table -- folded, clothed – standing by the wall. Once upon a time, this table was my favorite table in the whole world. Once upon a time, I would sit there everyday, not because I was forced to do homework, but more of bonding with my mom.
One of the earliest memories is set during a sunny summer month of 1990. I was four years old then, and I had just finished my nursery year. I was in my parents’ room with my mom. We were seated around the red table with our sketchpads, crayons and some monggol pencils.
During that time, I remember my mom would show me pictures of different characters and we’d draw them together. Everyday. My favorite characters were this cute green big-eyed dinosaur and kero keroppi – another green big-eyed frog (or “monster” as some calls it). At the end of each afternoon, we would exchange drawings. And I can still remember how my mother would marvel at my rough, childish drawings. She’d even say “Wow!” to an odd little monster drawing.
Fast forward to today. I realized how much time my mom had invested in me, in teaching me, and in trying to appreciate my odd drawings. The table has been left unused and standing by the wall for years, but my mom’s great effort to support me has not changed in any way at all.
Unlike other people my age who are climbing up the corporate ladder, I do not have a conventional profession that any mother would be proud of. I’ve let go of my marketing manager dream 3 years ago and replaced it with the oddest dreams and list of jobs. I write food reviews. I think of mobile game concepts. I create homemade journals. These "jobs" are fairly simple compared to the jobs of my contemporaries. Nevertheless, I love them and I acknowledge that these are gifts from God. (Thank you, Lord!)
I was a little bit embarrassed, yet pleasantly surprised, when my mother told my aunties over the phone about a new entry I’d written -- that they should read it and "like" it. Sometimes she would show visitors my homemade journals tucked in the shelf while I was away. Other times she would suggest ways of improving my writings or creations. She would even cut out newspaper clippings and encourage me to take the featured classes to improve my skills (which I’m very very thankful for). Then there are also times when she would be up late at night, just to reread what I’d written and then she’d tell her groggy and sleepy daughter that she has improved. I'm happy that my mom is not forcing me to live in a pre-determined mold. What a fortunate daughter I am to have a mother that not only allows her, but also encourages her, to flourish in whatever field God has placed her.
It's truly fun to have my mom as one of my top two fans. The other one is... none other than my dad. (Hehe!)
Thank you mom for your love and support -- from the summertimes at the red table until now. :)