November 3, 2015

Would You Like to Comb My Hair?

"They say pregnancy will bring you to the state of vulnerability. You will be mad, sad, over excited, grateful, and exhausted alternately up and down, then feel extremely fragile without any reason to explain why. Blame the hormones, yes, it's true. They also tell that the wonderful 9-month journey will change you into maturity. Sometimes it's true, yet, sometimes it's not"
***

The red sun of twilight alarms me that husband will come home soon. I do my routines, check the grocery in refrigerator, and decide what to cook tonight. No, I've lied. I have pushed my brain to arrange weekly menu the days before and make sure all I need is available. Sometimes it's tiring to be perfectionist - or try to be a perfect wife - while we know it's impossible. But, it's satisfying. It's just... satisfying - at least for myself of knowing that I've achieved something good today or yesterday.

I prepare corn and cut the long beans, yes, it's tamarind vegetable soup for dinner. Then, something disturbs my focus. I touch my hair, my dull curly hair. I remember something, something very nice. Suddenly, I cry. I know it's not because of the onions. The tears just come, and I let them flow.

Do you know what I remember? It's just too funny that I picture my mother combing my hair like she used to do when I was a girl, twice a day, with her gentle hands. I miss the moment how she touched my hair, how she tied my ponytail, and ended it by kissing my head. My tears keep falling. I do miss those moments. I miss her hands. I miss being loved like that. But time just changes too fast. The little girl has her turn to be mother soon. So, I blame the hormones again to make me too weak when I am alone. Though I always promise that I have to be cheerful, happy, and active - however I am - because it stimulates my baby to feel so.

Forgive me, my dear.

I'm in rush erasing my tears, taking my mobile phone, and typing this, "Mom, I miss you. I miss the moment when you comb my hair"

Then, I realize. It's not always good to follow what I feel. If she reads this message, will she just be sadder than me, right?

***

Those images which mother combs my hair still occupy my brain until my sleeping time. Husband is lying, and I ask him something to heal my feelings.

"Would you like to be combed before you sleep?"

I know he loves it. He puts his head above my laps, and I start to cry again - in silence, with smile - a very big smile.

"Hello baby inside, when you have grown up, I can't wait to comb your hair like my mother used to do"

***


For me, what I do tonight, it's just a simple sign of maturity.


Picture taken from here.

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