Second best

I am a second born and is the only one with a good flare in writing. My head is with sets of silly ideas and weird values, developed over the five years in boarding school, that is what papa thought of me.

My mom was from the same boarding school as I was (but she is more serious in nature) is a typical lady of her generation, with pre-conceived ideas of how things ought to be but more liberal than some other moms I knew. She is a hard set in her ways, much as I wanted to break away from.

There was nothing more I craved from her than her respect during all my growing up years. While I declared my independence from her expectations, in every decision I made, I would always be looking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of what she thought. Her approval meant everything to me and her disappointment broke my heart a million more times than it did hers.

Mom was from a middle class background; my grandmother was a primary school teacher, my grandfather a primary school headmaster. She has always been her own woman (independent in judgment or action) – earning her stripes by purely proving her intelligence; gaining respect from her scholarship offered during her uni years. She earn First Class Honors – an achievement each of us, her children, strive to emulate.

I remember falling asleep on the sofa while waiting for her as she writes up yet another research paper that she will present at yet another research conference. We – her kids – see how hard she works and strive with lots of effort puts in during her pursuit of knowledge.

I was thinking to myself, one day after I get my PhD then I will be able to walk beside her as an equal by academic measure but I know, no matter how far I go I’ll still fall short. And for once, coming in second best don’t matter all that much to me.

I miss you mom..