Filed under: To My Dearest...
Mom, don’t ever ask how much you owe me for the washing detergent, peanut butter jam, or cheap shampoo I helped you buy from the mini market. My whole life just can’t pay your-nine month-shelter-accommodated for me in your womb.
And Mom, don’t worry about my living, or my over-crammed schedule, or my over-time working hours, or my diet and food supplement, or my sore eyes and bulging spines, or my long distance relationship, or my habitual stressful lifestyle and my –not-enough-sleep. Let me handle it myself and then you can proudly call me a grown up.The more you worry about us, the more we worry about you…
Mom, don’t you ever asked how much we love you. Cause it’s more than words can say.
Just take care.
And Let us take care of you.
Get well soon.
YeHa* 05.03.08
