Timeless Love

On the 28th of January 2003, a little girl was born. She did as all babies did, and cried and screamed and squirmed. Her eyes were closed shut, and because of that, she never saw the love and pure joy shining in her mother's eyes.

1 years old

~~~

"Ma... Mama... Pa.. Pa...”

The little girl stumbled a bit, before steadying herself and standing up again uncertainly. She looked on at her parents at the other side of the room - that fuelled her determination - then put one foot in front of the other in a rhythmic pattern.

Right, left, right left.

She lost her balance and fell, but not before her father caught her. She glanced back and realised that she had already made it halfway across the room. She looked up to meet her parents' eyes and saw it - the pride in her father's eyes, and the happiness in her mother's.

She grinned and made a series of incomprehensible noises, of which the words "Mama" and "Papa" were only borderline understood.

4 years old

~~~

"Mama, I love you."

It was a warm, sunny day, and her mother was outside tending to the garden. The little girl watched the television programme intently, as one of the characters presented a bouquet of flowers to a young lady, stating that it was for "the one he loved the most".

At those words, the little girl's ears perked up. She surveyed the area, until she caught sight of a small, plastic flower. She picked it up, twirled it in her fingers, then put it inside her small, plastic basket.

Ravaging her art supplies, she pulled out a lemon-coloured pipe cleaner. She bent it into a circle and placed it next to the plastic flower.

She scurried outside as fast as her tiny legs would carry her, and gave her mother the basket.

"What's this?" her mother inquired, slightly confused.

"I saw this on TV. People give flowers and a ring to the people they love the most and ask them to marry them. Mama, I love you. Will you marry me?"

"I love you too, but that's not how marriage works." She stood up, removed her gardening gloves, and ruffled her daughter's hair affectionately. The little girl pouted in disappointment.

6 years old

~~~

"Mama, I can take care of myself."

The little girl swatted her mother's hand away stubbornly. She wasn't a child anymore, and she could very well do everything without adult supervision. (In her eyes, anyway.)

She rejected the frilly dress her mother had picked out for her, and instead put on a pair of denim jeans. She thought she was being "cool" and "unique" by doing so. She refused to buy any more toys, thinking that she had already grown up and matured. 

She thought she was right, and the whole world was wrong.

She was agitated by the fact that her mother still felt the need to escort her, and she thought she deserved the freedom to do whatever she wanted. She wanted to walk in and out of anywhere she wanted all by herself, and to listen to all the latest pop songs on the radio.

When her mother insisted that she followed her, she complained loudly, "Mama, I don't need you. I can take care of myself."

8 years old

~~~

"Mama, look at me."

The little girl clutched her report card in her short, stubby hands. Her mother was busy praising her brother for making a new structure with his Legos. Once her brother was tucked in bed, snoring soundly, she approached her mother timidly. 

"Mama, here's my report card. You have to sign it." She held up the file and nudged her mother with it. Her mother gave her a tired smile and picked it up. She scanned over the results quickly then handed it back to her.

"Give it to Papa to sign. Mama is tired."

The little girl bit her lip. Her mother didn't even congratulate her for getting third-highest in her year. She tightened her grip on the report card and choked out a feeble "OK."

Before heading to the computer table where her father usually resided in, she cast one longing glance towards her mother. Please look at me, she whispered.

9 years old

~~~

"I hate you, mama. I wish you were dead"  

The little girl glared at her mother with nothing short of pure hatred. 'She doesn't care about me. She doesn't love me. She has never loved me.' Those were the only thoughts running through her head in blur.

Once a flower blooming pure, she let envy poison her mind and withered sadly in its wake. All those teenage soap operas had influenced her far too much, tainting her ultimately. She felt as every adult was against her, not letting her do her "teenage" things. 

She thought romance was a necessity in her life. She thought she was only worth something if boys chased after her. She thought that her diva behaviour made her "special". She thought that being shallow and popular made her a better person. (Oh, how I despise you, 9-year-old drama queen.)  

She thought her mother only cared about her brother, and that her mother was just a selfish, cruel witch. She thought of the world as a soap opera, and her mother was the antagonist standing in her way. 

Her jealousy of her brother had fuelled that hatred, but it was the mass media that made her think that the hatred was normal, healthy, and even "edgy".

In a daze, with vision distorted by tears, she screamed and protested, and let go of three words that formed a stupid and narcissistic lie.

"I hate you."

11 years old

~~~

"Mama, I was wrong. I'm sorry" 

The little girl, now matured and less of a diva, picked up her sketch book and started drawing. She accidentally flipped to a page with her drawing from two years ago, and winced at how badly drawn and hyper-feminine the drawing looked.

A wave of nostalgia swept over her, and she thought back on her rude, bratty behaviour. She almost snapped her ruler at the mere thought of it. It was that type of personality that she had now grown to loathe with every fibre of her being. 

She remembered that she was running out of space in her drawing book, and willed herself to look at the shapeless, bland drawing. It was a drawing of a girl - for she used to draw nothing but girls - with an unnaturally elongated body;  long, thick eyelashes; stiff clumps of hair;   and the most ridiculous attempt at "fashion designing" she had ever seen. She stuck her tongue out and erased it without a second thought.

No more bad memories. 

She started drawing a kitten with a balloon tied to its paw, but thought of her mother, who absolutely loved cats. Realising that she had never apologised for that night, she tore the drawing from her sketch book and used it to make a card"

Once she had finished, she ran to the kitchen and gave the card to her mother. Her mother smiled softly when she saw the drawing of a cat with a balloon tied to its paw, with a speech bubble next to it that read, "I a-PAW-logise." 

The inside of the card had the words "I was wrong. I'm sorry." written in an untidy scrawl. It carried more meaning than the shouts and catfights of those dark days.

 12 years old

~~~

"Mama, thank you."

The UPSR exams were over, and it was high time for graduation. The little girl adjusted the ribbon tied around the collar of her shirt, and fidgeted around, waiting for the ceremony to start so they could enter the hall.

A faint call of her name nabbed her attention to see her mother running towards her. She had a bouquet of flowers in hand, and was pulling her brother along with the other hand. She slowed down to a halt in front of her, and handed the flowers to her. 

The little girl took them, and examined them closely. There were forget-me-nots, daisies, thistles and other plants she could not name. With a smiling teddy bear dressed in a graduation cap and robes in the centre of the floral arrangement.

The girl smiled and embraced her mother tightly in a bear hug. (Hooray for puns.) 

"Thanks, mama. But there's one big problem."

"What's that?" Her mother was confused. She had picked out the best bouquet for her daughter, so, surely there could not be anything wrong with it.

"We"re not allowed to bring anything into the hall." 

13 years old

~~~

"I don't want to let go."

The little girl - who was by now, not so little -  yawned contently and checked the message on her phone. Through her hazy eyes, she was able to make out the text through the glare of the screen: Goodnight.

She looked at the top of her phone screen. 10:18 PM. Considering the fact that the Philippines' time zone was an hour earlier, her mother must have sent the message some time around eleven o'clock. She tapped away at the keyboard and typed out a reply.

Goodnight. I love you. 

Half a minute later, her mother's response came. "I love you too", it read. The girl sighed. It was days like these that she felt so alone, and written words didn't do much to fill the void. She longed for spoken words, for her mother to kiss her on the cheek and tell her how much she was loved.

She typed out another message: I love you more than I can ever say. 

A soft buzz of her phone indicated that her mother had given her a reply. She picked up her mobile again and read the text.

Haha.. You're so sweet. <3 

The girl smiled. It made her world light up whenever she saw her mother happy. If only that glass wall wasn't in between the two of them, it would be better.

She turned off her phone and lay on her bed, tossing and turning, and generally trying to fall asleep. She reminisced the years when she had thought her mother hated her, and wished she could make time turn back and undo it all. 

She recalled how she had been so anxious to grow up and become a teenager, and realised how utterly and completely blinded she had been by the media. Now, at the age of thirteen, she was formally a teenager, but there was really nothing she wanted more than to go back.

Go back. Make time go back. Back to when her mother was always there in her life, so that she wouldn't have to cause her mother all the pain stemmed from her vanity. Go back.

She hated how teenagers always complain about their parents, about how their lives are miserable and that their parents don't "get" them. She hated how almost all of the teenagers nowadays wanted freedom. She hated how so many teenagers victimised themselves and made their parents into villains.

Her parents had fed her, gave a warm home, took care of her, and loved her. She didn't want to push her parents away anymore, nor did she want them to push her away. She didn't want to lose their love.

Her mother had always held her hand wherever they went. Back in those dark days, she had refused to be held, but not, she held on even tighter than before.

"Please," she begged. "Please, I never want to let go. Not now, not in a million years. Make time slow down, make time turn back, anything, please! I want to be with them until the end of eternity. I don't want to lose them again."

If only our love could be timeless.

~ Chan Yi Ying, Year 7 student.