Is She the wet nurse whose breasts I fed on because my mother was too conscious of her body?
Or the nanny who took care of me,with whom I spend the first two years of my life only to wakeup one day and I'm told 'she left'
Or the teacher who taught me way beyond the classroom and even washed and pressed my uniforms because the one who bear me was 'too busy'?
Is She my grandmother whose memories makes me nostalgic, whose feeble hands took special care of me. She was the closest to my definition. But then she was only my grandmother. When I learnt of her passing, I did not cried. But tried to remember a life of me without her. I can not see such life though I am told there is a mother but I ask myself WHO REALLY SHOULD BE MY MOTHER?
