Mother's Daughter

I am my mother's daughter.

I look like my dad, I speak like my dad and many say that I behave like him too, but I am my mother's daughter.

It was easy to call my dad a role model, because I only knew him for 6 short years and I guess death does tend to soften memories. I've only heard of great things about him - from my mom and everybody else. There was an altar of legacy built around him where I had to be the perfect copy to carry the torch forward. With amma though, I could just be. I could be whatever I want and would be accepted for it.

Amma tends to downplay her role in building the person I am now. She thinks genes and 6 years of inane babbling with my dad has contributed to my personality more than 23 years of consistent effort she has put on me. Everything I know about love, commitment, kindness and a hundred other things are solely because of her. There are not enough words to explain everything she has taught me and how much I love her; but words are the only thing I have at my disposal, so I shall try to put them to good use.

I should preface this by saying that it doesn't mean that we don't fight and we see eye to eye in everything. Oh no, if only love could ever be that simple! We are at loggerheads on everything - political opinions, feminism, faith, religion, EVERYTHING. While my siblings might be more diplomatic about their differences with amma, she and I have explosive fights. Our differences are never in the quiet, but thankfully so is our love; despite all the enormous differences. Maybe even that is a testament to who my mother is. "While she always has opinions about my life, she never forgets that I'm my own person, someone completely different from her", I remember telling someone recently.

But coming back to where I started, maybe I'm not so different from her. I am my mother's daughter. I see it in the way I get annoyed if I wake up to a sink full of dirty dishes. I feel it in the way I don't ask anyone for anything more than once. I understand it in the way I can forgive anyone who's committed a slightly big mistake but gets irrationally angry at a misplaced kitchen gadget. 

Sadly, I also see it in the way I try to keep my sadness in. I see it in the way I imagine the worst case scenario to be true. 

Even when we're different, we're so very similar in our own dynamic. She doesn't always express her emotions, but with me there's nothing barred. She isn't generally talkative, but between us, the banter never stops. There's a lot of things that go unsaid between us, but I hope our love is always expressed loudly.

Because ultimately, I'm my mother's daughter. Without her love, I don't know how to be and who to be.