You have to start growing up at some point, to spread your wings. I had decided to live in a university dorm, to leave the cozy comfort of our home. How would it go? Yes, I would manage, but it was still a big change.
It felt strange to think that, even though I had traveled far from home before, this time I would be geographically closer, but emotionally farther from her.
I was surprised when she immediately said yes with a smile and asked me where my dorm was. I just smiled back. She knew.
It was late afternoon, and I had joined her at her favorite coffee shop, her little refuge. We shared a bone marrow dish, her favorite meal. I had come to explain my reasons: my studies, my need for freedom, my aspirations. But before I could even finish, it was she, my mother, who laid out all the reasons why I wanted to leave. As if she could read my heart. Everything was so true. She knew because she understands life, its phases, its challenges.
Yet, this departure would not be without pain. Manou is very sick, and we spend a lot of time by her side, helping her. Despite her bouts of anger, brought on by exhaustion, I understand how hard she fights to keep our path smooth, to make sure we are well-guided. She has always taught us that science is important, that it helps us understand, solve, search, and find what life has in store. Sometimes, I regret that we don’t fully realize who she really is, how much she is our captain in this family.
That night, Mom was so beautiful. She wore a simple dress, almost girlish, her white hair streaked with hints of red, creating a magical contrast with her blue eyes. At that moment, I realized: it is she who orchestrates everything, quietly, to ensure everything flows smoothly, to make sure everything goes well. She is our pillar, our captain, always there for us, even when we don’t see it. And I am so proud, so grateful that she has prepared me for this world, for this new life waiting for me.
A huge hug spontaneously erupted on the couch of our bistro, under the tender gazes of the customers around us. But it was more than a hug: it was a thank you, an "I love you," a "I will never forget you." She gave me a life woven with love, with gentleness, like a living poem. And in that moment, I knew that she knew.
The exercise was to step into the shoes of an ancestral storyteller, to observe the world around us closely and express what we feel in words. In just five minutes, we were tasked with letting our thoughts and emotions flow freely.
Here is a short story born from that moment, an intimate reflection on motherly love, life’s transitions, and those moments when we take flight ✨ while remaining deeply connected to those who have guided us along the way.
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