My mom wasn’t the touch-y feel-y kind of mom. She didn’t hug me all the time, I hugged her,  she didn’t hold my hand or put her arm around mine or anything like that, I did all that stuff first. She even claimed that she didn’t hold me as a baby because she felt she would break me…or some sort of reason like that. It was explained to me once by my previous boss, that my mom’s generation weren’t the affectionate kind, so I left it to that, and never complained about it.

There was one time though, or at least a few times, when she felt that I was really hurt and did not deserve what was said about me, or when I did something that really touched her, when she opened her arms and told me to come give her a hug.

I remember one time in particular, it  happened on Sunday morning when I was insulted by a family member while helping my mom cook lunch. While I stirred the pot filled with mussels, my the tears would not stop falling, I tried hard to compose myself, not to get affected by what she was saying. After the said family member stopped, my mom invited me  upstairs, it was time to rest, she said, everything has been prepared anyway. I remember walking to the sink in her bathroom to wash my face and she went to her bed to lie down, when I came out of the bathroom, she turned to me and asked me to come to her bed and lie down next to her. I thought it was strange since I wasn’t used to my mom being affectionate, but I did anyway.

For a few minutes, I was wrapped in my moms arms, as if she was saying “I’m sorry she treats you that way, I love you.”