By Azanis Shahila
I stood motionless and looked at the solid, dark brown wooden swing. It looked old and rotten. I had to make up my mind whether to sit on that or not. I turned to face the garden. I thought about going back to my car and drove home. Home. That was where I wanted to be, or was it where I would be after I released my mind for a while? I sighed and walked to the side where there was a wooden bench at that garden. I could understand that there is no one at that place because it was weekdays.
I sat on the bench and my brain set off thinking about the argument that I had with my mother just before I came here. I started to think why she could not understand me and always wanted to argue with me on some little thing.
On the spur of the moment, an old lady came by and sat beside me. The situation started to become awkward. Then, the old lady began to start conversation with ˜Assalammualaikum. I was looking at her from head to toe and answered the œsalam.The old lady was not too skinny. Yet, she’s also not fat. She had a very fair skin, with a big round eyes, high bridge of nose and small mouth. I could tell that she had mixed blood.
I asked her why she was here entirely and she replied with the same doubts. I started to piss off and remained silent for a while. Suddenly, she began to say that she’s probably here because of the same reason as mine. She told me her name was Khadijah Mohamad and she’s 63 years old. She has four children, three girls and one boy. I told her the reason why I was there was because of the argument I had with my mom earlier. She choked down her head and started to say, œYou should not do that, you never know what she feels inside her when you treat her like that. Â She started to tell me about her bucket list of stories.
œI created my personal bucket list. I have many things that I really want to do before I kick the bucket, Khadijah said.
œAlthough the concept of the bucket list, destination one wants to visit, experience one wants to undergo and accomplishment one wants to master before dying, it’s always connected with our end of life. Yet, my one and only bucket list is to see my son getting back to my side, she added.
œWhy? Where is he right now? I asked. I looked straight at her face and was curious of the answer.
She then smiled and said, œHe used to be by my side, but not anymore because he has a better life with a better person right now.
œHe ran away from home with this one girl and got married to her last month. This has happened since I did not concur with his marriage because I recognise that the young woman is not meant for him, she has a bad personality and rude to the elders.
I was stunned and shocked when I heard that. She continued her story telling that all of these things started after her husband passed away. Thus, I have started to have thoughts that the widow had to work hard to bring up her children alone.
œI fed him with everything that I owned just to see him successful in his life till he became an engineer, but this is what he had rewarded me, Khadijah said.
œI cried the whole night when I was alone in my house, she said, sobbing.
œI have cried and cried till I had no more tears, she added.
œI was hoping for a man to take care of our family after my husbands untimely death, but it would just be a dream for an old woman like me, she mumbled.
She proceeded telling me that now she was living with her three daughters and that is the only thing that made her continued to be strong and to have spirits to work through all these.
Suddenly, she held my hands and told me that everything my mum did was for the sake of my happiness. Sometimes, I might not know the reasons behind all that. Thus, I should not easily get angry with her. At that moment, I started to realise that I was wrong and I should go back home to seek for forgiveness.
Before I went back, I shook her hand and asked for her permission to write about her story as part of my written assignment. She concurred and said, œHopefully, it is not only benefiting you alone, but also the others.
As I arrived home, I looked at my mom and sighed. I was unsure what to say. I ran towards her and hugged her tight from back. Sobbing. Tears welled in my eyes.
I closed my eyes, afraid that someone would notice me, but I knew she also had her personal bucket list. ***