How Blessed are We?

Around 1 am today I craved my mom's breaded porkchop so I immediately messaged her on Facebook to tell her that I wanted this for lunch.

Then it hit me.

It was Mother's Day today and here I am barking orders at my mom.

During lunch, without fail. She cooked and prepared the breaded porkchop.

I found myself knawing at these perfectly crispy on the outside juicy on the inside breaded pork chops. It was a bit sour, I think she put too much calamansi on it but no we're not going to complain to her today. To counter the sourness, I ate some of the Pansit Canton she also cooked. This is my normal thought process when it comes to food. My mom probably made me like this. Welp.

But this lunchtime, my mind's also filled with other thoughts. Mostly, guilt, gratitude, and the chop's sourness. Just kidding. I am filled with so many emotions that I began to construct a poem in my mind. I told myself that I will complete it today and share it with others.

But first a short background of my familial relationships...

My mom and I have a normal relationship. We talk when we need to work on chores in the house or we talk about food. I learned how to cook because of my Mom but not because she taught me. Growing up, she fed me good food. Now, I can discern what ingredients are in a dish as long as I am familiar with the ingredient. However, even if I can cook good food, my mom's cooking is still different and I can never replicate it even with the same recipe.

At this age, my mom still worries about me. Well yeah, that's what moms do. I guess the best we can do is to not intentionally ignore their calls and answer them properly. I know some of you guys do this too especially when you're swamped with tasks or work. But yeah would giving them a few of your minutes hurt your job? I doubt.

My family is a bit different from others. We all eat together during lunch but we don't really talk about ourselves nor do we ask each other how we're doing. This is given since we all have "acts of service" as a love language. We seldom thank each other, we rarely express our love with words, and we don't really hug or even beso unless there's a special occasion like birthdays, Mother/Father's Day, and Christmas.

Even so, I am not really good with words verbally and might think that most of the time I suck at being a daughter. I know that I grew up properly. I know that my Mother is proud of who I am today and I will continue to aspire to be someone she can be proud of. Not instantly, but I know I will get there someday. I hope that she'll still be there to see me prosper.

In a way, I wanted to celebrate this day by putting my thoughts into a blog and dedicating a simple tribute.

I wrote a simple poem today to appreciate all the moms out there!