Mother and Daughter Bonding: A Delight It Truly Is
You’d have to see it in order to believe how genuinely unordinary my Monday morning was.
My mother, Mrs. Wogu, was supposed to meet me this afternoon for an early birthday brunch. (I wonder what might have happened.) — Well. Our meet-up would have been a hard-earned break from my countless hours of instruction in what my peer group would naturally consider being good fun: You see, Mrs. Wogu has not always been the kind of individual to engage in what she hasn’t failed to label (quite literally) “child’s play.” She cannot tolerate jokesters in her own home, for noncompliance is usually met with a roast of some kind; and might I just add — Yes, Mrs. Wogu, for the life of her, cannot host an enjoyable get-together … But, she can very well make a good comeback.
I may refer to her as an *old woman* in the lines to come, but my mother doesn’t hesitate to call my father an old man when he chooses to act cleverly. And as he usually despises such an attack on his age, my father, conveniently, shuts up. (“Effective” is one word I use to describe my mother.)
Now, you could just imagine how drastic of a change in heart this old woman must have had to tell me she needed my help in changing her aura. She had said, in a paraphrase, she figured she needed to simply chill more these days.
“Ada! Come here! I need to speak with you,” my mother said with a voice that was not infrequently booming.
“What, Mum?” I shouted back at her, dropping what I was doing so I could approach her by the stairwell. (Yup. It is usually in the middle of a task that my mother’s instrument of a voice tends to blare out, upfront with intentions for the day.)
“I want to ask you a question,” she said. “Wait,” she added, as she appeared to be collecting her thoughts. “Well, it’s more of an observation than anything else, and I’d like to share it with you,” she finally told me.
I noticed her voice dropped a few decibels as she spoke, and had been a little uneven, at that. I took that as a cue.
“All right,” I said, a little reserved.
She continued. “Well, it’s just that I’ve noticed how you seem to just hit it off with the other mothers of your friends — and I recognize that our relationship hasn’t been the best as of late.”
I nodded. She was right. It hasn’t.
“The great distance apart — from home with your studies over at university — also doesn’t appear to be helping our situation,” she went on, appearing to be making notes here.
“Right,” I let out cautiously.
“So I want to do more … and with your help, of course.”
“Okay,” I said, with apparently the personality to now say something more than an interjection. “How may I be of assistance?”
“My vibes,” she leaked right away. “I don’t think people, in general, find me approachable. I think this may be part of the problem.”
Did she just say “vibes”? I thought to myself. Well gee, she must be serious about this then.
“I figured that my own daughter would be the best person for the job since she’s the reason why I want to change in the first place.”
“Huh?” I said, a bit surprised.
“So how about it?” said my mother, maybe jokingly. (I couldn’t quite tell, unfortunately.)
She must actually be serious. I think she’s asking for some type of personal transformation here, and I, to command it. Still, this isn’t quite like her at all, but who am I to judge here?
I suppose the duration of my thinking had been long enough that my mother was now looking at me very oddly — I don’t think I ever returned her an answer.
“Yes,” I blurted out, after regaining a sense of her presence.
“Oh, really? Yes, Ada! Oh, thank you! Thank you! And don’t worry,” she said brightly, “I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had, that is if you agree to teach me,” now holding her arms out to me.
“Don’t mention it,” I replied dully, now trapped in my mother’s loving embrace.
My mother had finally “unlocked” me, making her way up the staircase, when she accidentally knocked over some décor.
She stopped and turned about-face. She seemed to be staring at me weirdly; but soon enough, though, the very beginnings of an ever-growing smirk showed on her face. And before I could do a double-take, she had, by then, been long gone in boisterous laughter.
Stunned, of course, I didn’t quite know how to react. But alas, I couldn’t help but join her.
An air of calm emerged in the wake of our collective laughter.
So I suppose there is another word I could use to describe my mother … It would be “interesting.”
Now—imagine having such a character planning your 24th birthday for you.
See Ada for yourself
What's Your Reaction?
