Shyamashree Acharya

She must have been a girl, too
before she became my mom.
She must have had dreams, too 
before she chased mine.
My daughters fueled my passion
 Why was I unable to do the same
 for my mother,
 who was a girl once?

My sisters…..
 they pour their hearts out to her,
 every quarter of the day.
 From the smallest inconvenience
 to the loudest joy
 they unburden it all
 on my mother.

And I…...
I wait for my turn.
While I wait for her
 to shoulder,
 to absorb,
 to let go,
 to advise,
 to sympathize,
 to empathize,
 to be there for them.

Then I reach out my hand to her.
 A call, where I ask
 “How are you doing?”
 And slowly
 I hear her unravel,
 from a thousand miles away.
She whispers,
 she complains,
 she smiles, then hides.
She unburdens slowly onto me.

And I shoulder,
 absorb,
 let go,
 advise,
 sympathize,
 empathize,
 and be there for her.

Because
sShe must have been a girl, too. 
With her problems, her ambitions, 
her aspirations and her dreams
that she gave up too soon, 
to embrace a life that molded her,
changed her, wanted so much of her. 
Sometimes I wonder,
dDoes she even recognize herself 
in the mirror?

She says she’s happy.
 She says she’s ready for the end. 
 Yet she looks at my Ray- Bans 
 and says,
 “Next time
 get one for me.”
And the girl in me smiles,
as she sees 
                   the girl in her.