I Owe Her Everything

I have never tried estimating the very feeling, my mother must be getting during delivering the most beautiful thing she carried for nine months, in fact within her soul. My mother has repetitively telling me about I not being able to understand her feelings of concern and care. Beyond her spontaneous pains and long sleepless nights, her physical wounds are healed, but her emotional wound of being mother is still raw enough and will always be vulnerable.
She is a typical woman loving her husband and children beyond anything else, though she is a primary teacher. She is a modern day woman, but when it comes to her kids, she is more contemporary than anything, she will read newspaper, but cases are rare when she doesn't worry about her children by seeing any accident or fire! She might murmur to herself, "what if that was my child?" and I guess this thought process of typical mothers make them caring for others too. No road accidents, no plane crash, no fire will spare her from haunting, what can be more worse than watching her own child dying in front.
No matter how much my mom has turned sophisticated, she turns to her primitive levels when it comes to me and my brother. I have seen her sacrificing her lovable belongings without any hesitation, the only thing we need is to call her "mom" from any corner of the world. No matter how manyyears she has invested in her career, she derailed professionally for her motherhood. However decisive she is in her school, she constantly second guesses herself as a mother. The cesarean scar was never something ugly for her, in fact the shiny stretch marks were badges of pride.
I would always feel the exhilaration when I ride my bike but at the same point would see my mother's face full of weird thoughts. She must have fallen in love with the changed man, my father, all over again, this time for being unromantic though. She might then be feeling like loving that man more, who carefully powders the baby and never hesitates to play and talk with his child. She gained several pounds and ruined her figure after me, but she is always quite concern about her girl's figure. This might be the smallest version of her care, the one with the larger dimension is that she wishes few more years to Lord, not for her, but to see her child accomplishing their dreams.
Amity in teenage, harshness in childhood and naturing in all ages, I have seen her changing herself for me. Brilliance and grace of her love cannot be estimated. I remember my every cry when she shouted at me; my every meal, she cooked with dedication; my every gift, she bought when I wanted it badly; my cherished memories, where she has a lion share. She has never given me anything which I don't deserve.
I have penned this not for others, but for HER. Mhantat na "Swami tinahi jagacha aai vina bhikaari".