POST 3: THE EARLY MEMORIES AND LONGING (part 2)

My mother  was a strong, self-reliant woman, and somehow managed to bring up three kids on her own, which was no small feat. It took years for me to understand the weight she carried, juggling work and raising us, but back then, all I felt was the distance. She was always working, and when she wasn’t, she was exhausted. I craved her attention, but most of the time, I was left to my own devices. My older siblings were already at that age where dating and friends came first, so I spent most of my time on my own or playing outside with friends.

Looking back, I realize my childhood wasn’t lacking in adventure—I had friends, late nights of play, and laughter. But what I missed, deeply, was affection. There were no hugs after a rough day, no gentle moments to make me feel safe. The funny thing is, as I got older, I saw that my mother was just repeating the pattern she’d learned from her own mother. My grandmother wasn’t affectionate with her, so my mother became what she knew: the provider. In her world, hugs and kisses could wait, as long as there was food on the table and a roof over our heads.

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