Our primal urge is to seek the comfort of our childhood. As I sit unable to sleep from the pain of conjunctivitis, I find myself looking at my mom’s photo willing her to come and take care of me. Mom, being a free soul, in this world and the next refuses to oblige or even come in my dreams.
If she was here, she would have told me to buck up and deal with it. Such a stoic attitude probably came to her from not having a mother to turn to and being a sickly child.
Mom’s affection was like Hailey’s comet – rare and unpredictable. It came when least expected and was missing when most expected.
Instead dad sits in the next room keeping silent vigil on me. He won’t sleep till I sleep. Such consideration is rare and gets rarer over the years. There are few people other than parents who are willing to stay up for you, unless you are lucky.
I know I should be happy for having such a considerate father. Instead I sit and pine for my mother. The heart is stupid, senseless… but it has its reasons. Or does it?