The Mother of All Mothers
Hello everyone. Thank you all for your incredibly enthusiastic and creative replies.Here is the best completion of the story I published last week.
She opened her eyes, remembered what had happened last night.She touched her left leg with the right one to feel alive again.She got out of the bed, still trying to understand what had happened to her. She checked her mobile; there was a miss call from her. She pretended that she did not care.
She looked into the mirror; “Despite all the mistakes I made in the past, despite all the bad people I met and let into my life in the past, I deeply and complete accept and love myself…and that is more than enough,” said she to the person she saw there.
She went to the kitchen; poured water into the cattle and turned it on. She walked out to the balcony to greet the Sun, to greet the trees, birds and clouds. She took a deep breath and thanked the Universe for the new day, but…but what was that? She had not felt that way for a long time. She walked back into the kitchen and the water was boiling. She made her coffee and walked into her study room. She checked her mobile once again. And she called her.
“Hey, good morning!” said she, could not call her mother.It no longer felt natural to her.”I saw your call just now mother,” she said quietly and added: “I slept early last night.”
“It is okay,” replied she in a motherly tone which she had learned after thousands of mistakes.
“I called Okan; he asked about you,” said she, talking about her nephew whose mother and father had abandoned him and who was now in the orphanage as a result.
“I talked to him last night. I asked him who had called him and he only remembered his uncle Berkan,” said she excitedly.
That was her only child she loved and traumatized all the other kids she had for his sake. She then remembered the dream she had had last night; it now made sense. In fact her dream was some kind of prediction of what she just heard. No nothing had changed. She was the mother who kissed every inch of her sons and hardly touched her daughters. And she was the same woman, still praising her sons and criticizing her.
No matter how much she tried to see her mother’s values and believes as idiotic, barbaric Islamic darkness; she could not overcome it. After all she paid all the debt of her motherhood more than she deserved.
“I called him,too, like you wanted me to mother!” said she, feeling hurt, knowing that she had said that on purpose to put her down like she used to do. It had been only a few months since she got in touch with her mother and now she was discovering that her mother had changed at all.
“Yes, he is proud of his uncle like all of us,” replied she, denying all the failures of Berkan as much as her successes.
She hung up on her and texted:
“This is it; this is the end. Do not call me ever again. You were never a mother for me, but I have tried to think and believe that you were. Go and live with your sons for whom you really employed your motherhood.”
She deleted her mother’s number and cried for the last time. She dressed up and walked out. It was early in the morning; most shops were still closed, some were opening. The Sun shone on her face; she looked up and smiled. She smelled the sea and felt free; free from all the suffocating bondage she had to have in the name of love for years. She wanted to hug the big waves of which her mother taught to be afraid. She threw all her fears into the sea and looked at the sky. She wanted to be like clouds; different every moment, live with no rules, roles, laws or obligatory bows. She wanted to be free.
She turned off her mobile and sat on the grass by a big tree. How free was this tree, she asked herself. Yet how sublime it looked to her, she felt the soul of the tree behind, beyond what everyone was able to see. That’s what she called her true love and it was there for everyone without any demand.
She touched the tree and looked at her and beyond. And she called her her true mother. The only mother, the mother of all mothers. She was in tears and she was different now.
“The mother of all mothers,” said birds.
“The mother of all mothers!” exclaimed waves.
“The mother of all mothers,” whispered the wind.
“The mother of all mothers,” sang leaves.
“The mother of all mothers,” smiled the Sun.
“The mother of all mothers!” the sky said drawing another cloud.
And she no longer had to pretend that she was excited for mothers’ day.