The Saga Unfolds

I’m so thrilled that I don’t know how to begin this! Let me try anyhow…

My mom has always been supportive of her children’s endeavors – be it our passion, our hobbies or our work. She will try her best to understand the IT lingo that my bro and I toss around during table-talks, the church terminologies and the ministries that I’m involved in and most of all, my writings.

She knows that I have a website of my own. She was very cool about it and did not lambast me for putting personal stuff for all and sundry to see. In fact, she wanted to read my writings especially after I told her that I blog about happenings in the family, too. “Next time when I go upstairs, let me have a look at your website, ya?” she would remind me. But since we spend more time together downstairs rather than up, she didn’t get to see my blog.

It was only after I wrote [url=http://www.coolcatalyst.com/index.php?id=P180] How to Treat a Damsel in Distress[/url] that I finally printed the entry out for her. I wanted so badly for her to read it. I wanted her to know how much I appreciate her. After giving her the printout, I fled upstairs but not before noting that she looked so happy because she could finally read what I wrote about her.

After a while, my brother came upstairs. “Mummy cried a little when she read your article. And she wants to say something to you,” he said. Mummy cried?? Oh, my… She was having her shower then and so, I kept on egging my brother to spill the beans but the guy simply refused to do so. “Sis, she told me not to tell you anything more. You need to ask her yourself.” Gosh, how I hate being kept in suspense!

Finally, she was done with her shower and I asked her, “Mom, what do you think of what I wrote? And what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

She gave me a beatific smile, “You write so wonderfully. I didn’t know how good your writing is until I read this. And… and… I never realised that you really loved me until I read this article.”

My jaw dropped open, “But Mummy, didn’t I tell you that I love you before this?”

“Yes, you did but… it just didn’t sink in until I read this,” she said quietly. “I’m very glad you printed this out for me.”

She hugged me tightly before ambling off, “I’m going to show this to your father and tell him, ‘See, our daughter has written something so nice about me!’”

I guess dad must have been impressed by what I wrote that he asked me to write for the NST’s Father’s Day contest this year. And as what I mentioned in [url=http://www.coolcatalyst.com/index.php?id=P267]A Dream Fulfilled[/url], I told my dad that I couldn’t think of anything nice to write about him. What an example of a good daughter, eh?

A day after I blogged about ‘A Dream Fulfilled’, some of you guys encouraged me to go ahead and tell my dad those three words face to face. I pondered on the best way to go about it and then thought of using what I wrote to pave the way. I printed that article out and gave it to my mom to see. She was thrilled and said, “He’s gonna love this!” So I asked her to let him read it when she thinks the timing is appropriate.

The few days that passed by afterwards were kind of awkward on my side. I kept imagining my dad looking at me in a different way after that. I kept wondering if he liked the article or hated it or what?? When I asked my mom about it two days ago, she said that she hasn’t found the opportunity to let him read it yet. I felt rather relieved and said that she can take her time.

Yesterday, I came home rather late and hoped that my dad was already asleep. He always believes that all good men (and women) should be at home before midnight and likes to remind us of it when we come back late. Lo and behold, my dad was the one who opened the door for me. But he seemed to be in a good mood and did not lecture me about coming home late. Now, that’s strange…

I went to the dining hall where the familiar sight of my mother and brother eating their fruits and talking greeted me. Upon seeing me, my mom started to behave like a spy – she dropped her fruit and tip-toed about, her eyes darting furtively around and telling me that she has something to tell me but it can only be said when Papa is safely asleep.

Again, the suspense nearly killed me but I had no other choice but to wait until she stopped acting like a spy.

After she was satisfied that he was indeed asleep, she finally told me that she made him read my article that afternoon when he asked her for some reading materials.

“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Read it, it’s about you,” she said.

Puzzled, he read a few sentences, “No, I don’t see anything about me here.”

“Keep on reading, you’ll see,” she said firmly and pretended to disappear with the full intention of peeking at him while he was reading. And she noted the following actions: