A Glass of Ginger for My Mom

 

A day before New Year’s eve 2016, my mom told no one that she got stomach ache when my oldest sister was cooking, my older sister was sweeping the floor, my father was watching television, and I was busy with my phone. We heard mom’s voice. And then my father responded by asking “why”. She told that the ache happened when she smelt the rotten rice. Just that. My mom backed to her activities, and the others did so. I glanced at her for a moment, and I saw her eyes. She blinked. I knew that it must be painful. I stayed away from my phone, and approached my mom.

“Mual? (nauseous?)”, I asked.

“Ho o. (yes)”, she replayed.

“Koyo wong mabuk? (like seasick?)”, I asked.

“Ho o. (yes)”, she replayed with heading to her work.

I felt sorry for her. Suddenly, I thought about making a ginger drink. It is trusted in healing the nauseous. I took the ginger in the kitchen. I burned it for a moment above the stove gas. I peeled and crushed it. Finally, I put it on the boiled water.

When my mom drank the ginger, she looked better.

It was so simple. But, you know what, I never gave my sympathy to my mom like that before. I was too lazy to help her and relieve her pain.

That night, I felt I was not me. I was too kind. I felt there was a white power supported me. Is it angel? May be yes, may be not.

But, I felt good with the attitude. To have much love with others. To have peace in my soul. I wish the white power would stay longer in my heart.