My parents

With my mother dead and my father living across the globe, I was thinking about their struggles while they raised me and my siblings. My mother who carried me I her womb, who nursed me, who cleaned me, who provided for all my needs when I was a baby and as I grew up and my father who worked hard to see that I get everything. I thought of how they tried to provide us with the best of clothes, books, food, toys, everything. I thought of how on a hot summer afternoon they went to market on a scooter to buy me a new dress because I wanted one. I thought of how they managed to buy an expensive doll house for me because I liked it. I thought of how they went out in rain, how they went out on cold, foggy days to fulfil my requirements. How hungry and thirsty they would first go out for me. I thought of how I would find my mother standing outside worried if I would be late by just five minutes while returning from school and how my father would wait outside my school gate. How they took me for my exams, for my extra classes, for my hobby classes. How my mother would always cook my favorite food. I thought of how much they struggled for me and how much they loved me. And I thought of how I would never be able to pay them back.