The Longing

One morning, I woke up, feeling helpless and torn. I have been away from home roughly three years now. I miss my son, my husband and my family terribly. Definitely, I am terribly missing my life.

Two years ago, as I was staring outside through the window of a three-storey building where I lived, I saw myself as a reflection of a loving mother. I gazed up in the sky and saw dull and gloomy clouds, thinking: “Are those clouds the same clouds my son may probably be gazing at, right at this very moment?  I sighed. As tons of snow were about to fall, I took a sip of my hot chocolate and felt the warmth raging all over me. Certainly, I needed it. I needed warmth to stream through my body and rage in me all over.  More to the point, I needed the warmth of my son’s embrace. As I looked down and spotted a lonely pine tree standing in a cold white space, I dared to ask: “Is it a mirror of me?” The answer made me feel more lonely, like a goner queuing for its own burial. The emptiness simply enveloped the whole of me.  I needed warmth to stream through my body and rage in me all over, so the goner will be no more and will bring life back to me.  More to the point, I needed the warmth of my son’s simple glee that kicks in life and rage all over me. Others might see me smiling but deep inside I was shaking. The kind of shaking when weakening sickness sucks life out of you. I, myself, knew that I must be strong. If it were to combat a debilitating, life-sucking sickness, I ought to be strong. It was my decision to leave my home country in the first place. It was my American dream that I chased. I did sacrifice some “happiness”, in such different levels, in exchange for a better future. I knew then I could do it. I knew then and up to now my purpose. I left to give him the best future that I could give.

As in sync with such thoughts, soon enough, the snow started to drop. It seemed like the heaven was crying along. I felt down. I needed warmth to stream through my body and rage in me all over.  More to the point, I needed the warmth of a life full of love. And in a few moments, my phone rang; I heard my son’s voice on the other line, “Dear God, Thank you for having wonderful parents. I miss my Mama very much. Please let her be safe always. I hope we could be together soon. Amen.” I can’t utter any word from that point in time, I broke down and cried. When I needed warmth to stream through my body and rage in me all over, just like that, it hit to the point. I received the warmth of my son’s warm and all-embracing love. Until he said, “Goodnight Mama, I love you,” and a busy tone followed, I whispered gently, “Soon son, soon.”

Not long enough, the sun shone so brightly that day, melted the bitter snow out and gave warmth. I saw glimpses of hope in every ray of the sun. I just wished that someday, somehow, someway, my son will understand why.

This coming Christmas, I will be home. There will be no white Christmas again. It will be a fun-filled holiday vacation. I feel excited about it. I will make sure that it will be worthwhile for my family especially for my son. I believe that there’s no other way to describe the word “strong” than being a mother. It is absolutely the essence of being a woman. I have no choice but to be strong. For my son, who celebrated his 7^th birthday last Saturday, 18^th of September, I will see you soon, finally.