She stares at me. Blankly. Coldly. And I wish I did not know what she sees. I wish I could not but it is written all over her face.

I wish I had not caused her pain because it’s painful for me to know at a glance that she is in pain. Because of me.

I wish I had known that she was just there to show her love. A love that I have neglected for so long. I wish I could go back in time and tell her how much I have appreciated her all through these years. I wish I could tell her what life is like with the possibility of losing her.

I wish she already knows but she does not because I never care to show. I wish she knows I love her even when I hate her. I wish she knows, but she does not because I never care to show.

I know she understands because if had not she would not wake up in the morning to tell me to clean the house because she was too tired last night laundering my clothes, my underwear, and yet she has to wake up the next morning to cook my food.

I wish I were not so selfish. I wish I saw how she would work herself to her bones despite her brittle age, just so as I can “study” for an upcoming quiz. I wish I saw how she juggled her way through all the chores. I wish I knew her like she knew me.

I wish I gave attention to her like she gave attention to me. I wish I showered her with so much encouraging words the way she has showed me with words of praise at my mediocrity. I wish I could. I wish I did. I wish I showed her how much I am proud of her the way she prays for me and tells me how proud she is for my broken achievements.

I wish I could paint a beautiful canvass of “perceived reality” in her face, so that she will only see beauty and not the pain. I wish I could offer my arms to her when she needed me the most. I wish I had. I wish I can.

I come home tired from my own business without even thinking what she has gone through, or how many times has she cried. I wish I could hug her like I have always had when I was a little girl who saw her as my world, my hero, my only shelter. I wish I could just go back in time and erase all the pain I have caused her.

I wish I did not know what her mannerisms meant, but sadly, we have been together too long that I would know what she does when a strand of hair falls down her face. She does not tuck it to her ear, or plays with it with her fingers. She can stand leaving the hair alone dangling beneath her cheek.

She’s contented with being with me for a couple of hours, even if it would be so tiring for her. She would buy me clothes, and I got used to the custom of rejecting what she buys because I was too busy thinking of me, myself and I. She thinks of me when I don’t think of her. She prays for me, even when I do not pray. She’s concerned for me even when I do not give **** about her stuff. She looks at me like I’m a fragile china.

And it’s sad how I have disregarded her all these years… It’s sad how I have let her be old and in pain. I have grown twenty years ripe and still I act like the 2 year old me.  I w ish I could, I wish I can. I wish I could show my love for my mom.