she

Today’s my mother’s birthday. We used to have a great relationship. We were very close to each other before. Something has changed that closeness though. Maybe it was my growing up and learning new things. Or maybe it was because I moved to the city for high school and left her in that very secluded town we used to live at. I love her still, very much, and I know she loves me too. She’s my mother afterall.

To the woman who still do my laundry by hand, who make my coffee whenever I’m home, who’d cry when seriously arguing with me, who once caught me masturbating [this was in elementary, a long long time ago], happy birthday.

And thank you.

And I love you.