Sorry For Being a Shitty Daughter Ft. Ottawa’s 2017 Tulip Festival

My mom and I drove down to Ottawa this Mother’s Day weekend to help my little sister move back to Toronto. I slept the entire way while my mom drove and answered emails while she packed. I boost feminism and the power of women often but I’ll be the first to cringe when my mom asks to take pictures with her daughters. When we went to Byward Market to check out the city’s Tulip Festival preparations, SHE bought me this gorgeous handmade necklace and I ditched her Mother’s Day dinner to hang out with my friends that evening.

 

I’ve never been the mushy family person, I didn’t even cry at my sister’s wedding. My small family, especially my mother, has always been there for me and I’ve somehow always brushed it off. I even blocked her on social media. Again, I didn’t get her anything on Mother’s Day. I’m such a moron that I posted a picture of just myself wishing other people a Happy Mother’s Day and not my own mother.

 

So here is all I can do: write, though I know it makes up for nothing we put you through.

Dear mama, my inspiration, my flower, my everything,

 

So many people ask me how I manage to globe hop this often and 100% of the credit goes to you. If you didn’t make the first move to travel to this beautiful country, I would have never had this passport or these opportunities. If you didn’t exemplify yourself for me to see the reward of hard work, I would have never pushed for my dreams or completed school. Without you, I would have lacked the confidence to learn new languages and would have always been cold or wet (you’re always right when you tell me to bring a jacket or umbrella).

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for throwing away the milk you worked so hard to buy, I realize it’s importance when my body aches at night. I’m sorry for coming home late when I knew you waited for me passing time on the couch with those bloody infomercials. I’m sorry for losing all the pretty matching accessories you gave me, they were crowns of my queen, and you let me off without apology. I’m sorry for leaving our nest so often but I’m sorrier for not calling when I know I’m flying on your wings.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for hovering over me to take my meds because I didn’t listen to you about taking care of myself. Thank you for picking me up in dark hours when you begged me to come home in light. Thank you for still trusting me with your irreplaceable jewels of power, patience, and persistence. Thank you for rebuilding your wings I carelessly speed with and thank you for always welcoming me back with open arms.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You forgive like flowers and plant seeds where it hurts, you let us blossom when there is nothing but rain in our hearts and dirt in our bones. My being celebrates every moment of your rooted resistance and worships every inch of the shade you shelter us with. Happy Mother’s Day mama.

Your (still learning to spring) flower,

 

Zahra.

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