I used to believe that, at the end of the day,
No matter how angry my mom gets at me
No matter how hungry I be after school because I
Finished all my lunch mom had packed for me
Or no matter how bad my day gets,
I’ll be back in my bed, tucked in
Comfortable and drowsy, with mom
Offering her warmth through her lullabies
Or with dad’s lips on my forehead,
And I’ll be able to close my eyes,
And greet the sheep that have been waiting for me.
It was like a mantra to me.
One time I told myself that when
Dad forgot to pick me up after school
And I had to wait for him until dusk
But we got take-outs for dinner so, it was fine.
I held onto it, believing it’ll work
And for the most of my childhood, it really did.
The other time I failed a test for the first time,
I cried in the classroom.
I was so scared for mom to find out,
I hid my test paper crumbled inside my bag,
And hoping that I could sleep all the sadness off at night.
But of course, mom had to ask me how my day went
So I broke in tears. And she listened, and she
Said something about failure
And hugged me tight.
Sometimes, I wonder
When I couldn’t fall asleep at night
Was it because I forgot to say the mantra?
The little girl in me, taught me how
She puts one happy thought,
A happy tree in a painting,
And it brighten up her whole day.
Does a child who only ever likes to eat sweets
And does whatever she wants in the afternoon
Spending her day playing tags and catching butterflies
Before mom calls her for dinner
Have more power over her thoughts compared to me?