Mama’s Time, My Time

Mama and I sat watching children play, their laughter filling the air, disrupting the world with their carefree joy. As we argued about how old I was turning, I was determined to win.

Hearing her insist, I rushed inside, eager to prove my point. I knew exactly where to look, Mama kept all our important documents in a box, a treasure chest of laminated papers and old files. I scanned through quickly, and bingo! I found mine.

Mama was convinced I was younger than my age, sure that I still needed her watchful eyes to keep me safe from the world. She wanted me to bring someone home, but only if I stayed home long enough for him to find me. It wasn’t about curfew that was never up for debate, at least not under her roof.

To her, I was still a baby. Her little girl. And in her eyes, I needed her guidance, my brothers’ shadows, and a home that felt like a fortress to survive.

But I wanted her to see me as grown, to agree that I was a woman, capable of making my own choices.

So I ran back outside, my birth certificate in hand like a trophy, grinning wide, ready to prove her wrong.

I was right. But so was she.

As she took the paper from my hands, I saw it in her face the realization, not of my age, but of time itself. Time had moved without her permission, slipping through her fingers like sand. She hadn’t just raised a child; she had gained a friend, someone she came home to talk to about her day.

Her face held a quiet scowl, not directed at me, but at time, because it had stolen the years she thought she had to watch me grow.

She still looked like Mama, just older. Her beauty, once bold and unwavering like a flag in the wind, was now softer, touched by age and the weight of love.

She had always been strong, always fixing my sister and me, making sure we looked our best inside and out. But she wasn’t always this forgetful. She didn’t always have to swallow pills like they were part of her daily routine. The woman who once stood so effortlessly tall was now learning to rest.

Daddy used to be the one we feared when we were naughty, but I had thought Mama would stay young forever.

Now, I’m the one reminding her to take her medicine, and making sure she sleeps on time.

Mama once bought me Dark & Lovely because I was a teenager. Now, I buy her the things she needs, the things she wants.

And I wonder, how will time treat me when it’s my turn to be a Mama too?

cateyes