My mother was my first country, the first place I ever lived – Nayyirah Waheed
When I was younger, my mum was not my favourite parent or even person. I never understood why she was so hard on me and of course, Papa was so fun.
There’s this thing about children and the parent/person that treats them the nicest face to face. But there’s something about maturity that values all that your parents do for you and are to you.
I don’t have a favourite parent anymore
(you are supposed to say that in public) but my Mum and I are the best of friends now. I grew up to see her as a person just like me, with fears and dreams, laughter and tears and faith as big as that mountain that everyone is always talking about.
We bring out the gist in each other, laugh together and pray together. Oh, we pray together. I caught the praying-mum bug early.
On this day years ago, you birthed your second born and just like that you are already a grandmother.
So here’s an invite to you, reading this, to tell me a story about a mother. It could be your mother, mine, someone that mothered you or God.