The Nipa thatch roof offered a weak resistance against the violent rain and small puddles of water were slowly forming on the floor. Nowhere else to go for cover except the wooden kama (bed), where she eventually hid the kids to protect them from the harsh weather.
And she scurried to finish her cooking in a detached dirty kitchen, connected but outside of the house. She braved the cruel storm to provide everyone something hot to put in their tummy. And she did more than that.
She may have thought I have forgotten that scene from the distant past but I have not. Maybe not ever.
And we are still far from being glimmering rich now, but through all the comfortable trapping we have, I will not forget everything she did for us. Through all the love. The sacrifices. The lessons. I'm so blessed to have her as my mother.
Of course, there are times we do not see eye to eye, but I love her. She’s our anchor. Our light. Our strength.