I started writing to Mom in a special notebook just for her last year, on the day I received my visa approval for my studies, knowing that I’d leave for England soon. That was the moment I realised that I didn’t have her anymore to share the news with, to tell her that I would finally study what I had longed for, and to let her know that she shouldn’t worry about me because I would be doing fine, like I used to.
But she wouldn’t.
When we were in Barcelona for a short trip for my friend’s wedding, my boyfriend asked me whether my Mom would be happy that I was there, spending my holiday in another country. I said no. She would freak out like she used to whenever I wasn’t home. It’s just not about me, even if I’m still doing fine, but about the fact that she’s a mom who knows that her daughter always lives away from home. I left home when I was 18 and rarely came back, just once a year, and the older I got, the less I saw my family. She always worried about me that way. It used to give me a kind of heavy feeling, but now I’m longing for it.
Now I’ve finished my studies and even got a distinction for my dissertation. What could I write? I said that I wished I could tell her I made it.
