You wanted to party and have fun,
To play, dance, sing kareoke.
When I was a child I hardly saw you in the mornings,
You slept in from your long night’s work.
You were attracted to the trends on TV,
While I stuck to muted colors of black, grey, blue, and white.
Your social media was filled with notifications,
While mine had an occasional buzz.
You left the clothes for two weeks,
And complained when you finally had to clean the heavy load.
You bought candy from Longs,
Ate them on your bed at night while you watched the Filipino channel.
My grandma had to teach me how to be a woman,
“Your mom is hardly home and she does not teach you, so I will teach you,” my grandma said.
With her, I learned to wash dishes,
Sweep and mop the floor, cook basic foods,
Fold clothes, dust the house, wipe the counters, and more,
just about anything my mother should have taught me.
I wonder if my grandma had not been there,
that I would have been devoid of nurture completely?
While my mom partied with her friends,
All I wanted was for her to stay home and be my mother,
To care for her home and her family,
To make sure things were running smoothly,
To stroke my hair when I was hurt,
To wait on me when I was sick.
Why did my mother think she could do whatever she wanted?
I didn’t have to read a bible to know a woman’s place.
Now that she visits church with me,
she’s stopped trying to be the “cool mom,”
She bakes me pastries and sandwiches ,
She cleans without a frown on her face,
No longer nags but helps the home run smoothly,
She was deprived of God,
But now that she learns she can finally help me.