Ma, you have been silent all these years and now suddenly you are talking to me I don't know why.
All I have of you is a framed face in black and white, taken even when you were so indisposed.
I thought of placing you amongst Gods and Goddesses but your smile - subtle and mystic looks so full of life. The eyes, ever so conversant...
eagerly tell me stories of forgotten times like when I came to you pregnant with my first child, and you laughed at me the way I talked to the newborn.
It isn't easy to know looking at your eyes you were in pain. They convey to me many things many times. But, Ma, I don't understand these signs.