Do you want to know why I love my mother?
When I call her to wish her a happy birthday, her affectionate and semi-reproachful greeting for me is, "Hello, my daughter."
Whenever I go home for breaks, she always has my favorite egg tarts waiting for me and clean sheets in my bed.
If I, in one of my uglier moments (which I regrettably seem to have a lot of), lash out or speak out of anger she always has the grace to understand that I mean to say I'm sorry and forgive me, knowing I'm too proud and weak to allow my tongue to actually utter the words.
She never questions my propensity to go out by myself or if I have any friends...at least, not that much.
Unlike my father, brother, and especially myself, she is endlessly patient and bafflingly forgiving in her opinions of others.
I inherited my nice hair from her.
She cares. She really does. And that is a really nice thing to know.
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