As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. She is the beating of my heart. I cannot now imagine a life without her.
― Kristin Hannah, Summer Island
I’m sure we all have something to be grateful about when it comes to our mums, and it feels more evident in Ramadan when we see so many of our parents (and not always just our mums!) slaving away in the kitchen, enduring the heat, carrying heavy bags and travelling long journeys – all with a fast, usually just to make sure we get our dinners on time and that the kitchen is well stocked (for a siege!), or that preparations for the evening are done on time.
It’s easy to take this for granted, but as we become older we also become more aware of what they do – I’m sure most women will tell you (as many of my friends have told me!) that they realise how much their own mothers have done for them when they get married and move away, and when they become mothers themselves.
As my mum has gotten older, she’s become a little softer, her hands get arthritic pain every now and then and she’ll get tired out quicker. But try as we might stop her, she’ll still insist on weekend dinners for family, or cooking huge feasts for everyone on Eid day, or ever turning her hand quickly to sew a hem here, a torn rip there.
Truly, our mother’s hands have held everything for us, and Ramadan is one of those times which makes us appreciate the hand which feeds us at the end of of a long, hot day : )