Kindness

My mum is a giver. Everything that is good in her life, she won’t keep it. She will give it to her husband, her father, her mother, her father in law, her mother in law, her brothers, her sisters, her children, her neighbours, the people in her yoga class, the people she saw on the street, the people who might need her help, the people who used her help.

Anyone that passes my mum, she will have something to give them. Even the people who weren’t nice to her, my mum will give them too.

Is it a good thing? To be so giving?

I don’t know. But I know I couldn’t be like her. And even if I tried, my selfish nature will stop me from being so kind to everyone. I couldn’t even be kind to myself, so how could I devote my life serving others? Well, now it’s getting somewhere. Because I couldn’t be kind to myself, maybe that’s why I tried to be kind to other people so I would receive their kindness in return? Is it true for my mum? Is she living the life that she has no regrets? Is she trying to make up for the cruelty and the harshness she sees every day?

I don’t know. But I know one thing. That I wanted to be kind like her. I wanted to be giving like her. I wanted to give her the same things she gave me (impossible I know but let me try). I wanted to give my family what she gave them, but knowing I will be treated with the same kindness.

But I won’t be giving with a blindfold on. I won’t be giving my blood to the ones holding a knife. I won’t give my arms away so someone uses it to hold another person. I won’t be like my mum. But I know how kindness feels like. And I will give that to the ones I love.

Thank you mummy, for being so kind. I’m sorry I didn’t say thank you enough.

I love you.

t.l.