Dawood Ibrahim
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By Webmaster -
January 4, 2017
0
149
A few years ago when my mother was alive I would get a call from her at odd times in the night or day from Baltimore where she lived. “How are you Bob?” she would ask. “I’m fine ma,” I would say, “why?” “Nothing!” she’d say, “I was just worried about you.”
Mothers always worry about their children. There is nothing I could do to stop my mother worrying about me and as I pondered over this thought, I recalled an article written by a young mother: “Is there a cut-off time when children become accountable for their own actions? When parents can shrug and say, “It’s there life,” and feel nothing?” No there isn’t!
The writer says, “When I was in my twenties and I was a young mother, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches on my son’s head as he had got hurt. I asked, “When do you stop worrying?” The nurse said, “When they get out of the accident stage.” My mother, who was standing nearby, just smiled faintly and said nothing.
“When I was in my thirties, I went to parents day and sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked and disrupted the class, but the teacher said, “Don’t worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.” My mother who heard this just smiled faintly and said nothing.”
“When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring from my children, the bikes to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, “Don’t worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They’ll be adults.”
My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.” “By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new thought; that there was nothing I could do about it.
My mother still smiled faintly and said nothing. I continued to worry over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.” “My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was saw my mother’s warm smile and her occasional, “You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?”
“Can it be that mothers are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch? Is worry a curse or is it a virtue that elevates mothers to the highest form of life?”
And then my daughter became quite irritable recently, saying to me, “I was so worried the other night when my little one came home late..!” I smiled a warm smile. The mother’s worry torch had passed on..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
@war&peace @Hell hound @Khafee @SherDil007 @Mentee @Morse_Code
January 4, 2017
0
149
A few years ago when my mother was alive I would get a call from her at odd times in the night or day from Baltimore where she lived. “How are you Bob?” she would ask. “I’m fine ma,” I would say, “why?” “Nothing!” she’d say, “I was just worried about you.”
Mothers always worry about their children. There is nothing I could do to stop my mother worrying about me and as I pondered over this thought, I recalled an article written by a young mother: “Is there a cut-off time when children become accountable for their own actions? When parents can shrug and say, “It’s there life,” and feel nothing?” No there isn’t!
The writer says, “When I was in my twenties and I was a young mother, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches on my son’s head as he had got hurt. I asked, “When do you stop worrying?” The nurse said, “When they get out of the accident stage.” My mother, who was standing nearby, just smiled faintly and said nothing.
“When I was in my thirties, I went to parents day and sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked and disrupted the class, but the teacher said, “Don’t worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.” My mother who heard this just smiled faintly and said nothing.”
“When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring from my children, the bikes to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, “Don’t worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They’ll be adults.”
My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.” “By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new thought; that there was nothing I could do about it.
My mother still smiled faintly and said nothing. I continued to worry over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.” “My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was saw my mother’s warm smile and her occasional, “You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?”
“Can it be that mothers are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch? Is worry a curse or is it a virtue that elevates mothers to the highest form of life?”
And then my daughter became quite irritable recently, saying to me, “I was so worried the other night when my little one came home late..!” I smiled a warm smile. The mother’s worry torch had passed on..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
@war&peace @Hell hound @Khafee @SherDil007 @Mentee @Morse_Code
