You're so ungrateful!

She glanced down at the tiny, little baby placed on her chest. A tuft of black hair and white as the moon; her second chance in life. She would be the best mother - she would show them all that she was the best mother. She would make it her life's work.

"Again, read story again". She laughed and said, "We've already read this story many many times. My mouth is so tired of reading this story. But you know what I will read it once more because I am the best mother". At 5, Anjie spent all her time with her mother as she was an only child and her mother was a stay at home homemaker. Her dad went into office during the day and was back at night. However, it was her mother who ran the house, organised the meals, read to her and prepared everything for her.

"You know when she was a little girl I encouraged her to pick her own clothes; to have an independent personality". Anjie could hear her mother proudly sharing this was some other mothers at her 10th birthday party even as she looked around at the picture perfect birthday party organised by her mother. Balloons, streamers, a magician, party games, a fabulous three tiered cake, little ham sandwiches, devilled eggs and chocolate eclairs. "What a wonderful job you've done this year with the party" said all the mothers.

"I can't believe the way you spoke to me Anjie, after all that I have done for you. Your father left and it's just been me all these years supporting you, listening to you and cooking for you and being there for you". Anjie looked up at the ceiling wishing she was anywhere but here; her chest compressed with the weight of the guilt of starting to form her own opinions and express her self. She was a teenager with her own friends and her own life. She went to school, played basketball, did her homework and met up with her friends while her mother planned their meals, cooked, and waited for her to come home to ask her about her day. She spent on them taking them to expensive restaurants for expensive meals and doted on Anjie only asking from her in return her undivided attention, loyalty and gratitude. Was that too much to ask?

"You need to slice the potatoes like this and I only want tiny, tiny pieces of the onion and ginger. Chop them very fine; I hate big pieces. It's also the best to use fresh ingredients; none of that stuff from the jars", as her mother went on and on Anjie listened to some of it and ignored some of it as she attempted to follow every instruction. It was never right; she never got anything right - her tea was too strong, too weak, too cold, the salad had too many large pieces and she could never dream of going near meat or chicken or fish; she's ruin that. "You do it like this," said her mother and yet Anjie never heard her or wanted to hear her or do it her own way. "I like big pieces of tomato and cucumber", she would argue, "I'll make it my way and you make it your way". And before she could chop up the salad or fry the chicken it was all done for her. Her mother would say, I cooked - I knew you would be tired - and what else could she say and do except express her thanks, eat and wait for the next day to come for a repetition of this day?

"I'm not staying here for this driving test any longer!" Anjie said to her mother over the phone, it's taking too long I cannot do it. "Yes, you can - stay and get it over with you - driving is the best way to be free and independent - you must pass the test!" How ironic, it was thought Anjie months later as she was indeed driving around that her jailor had been the very person who had encouraged her to have a way of breaking out of the gallows. Immediately she felt guity; mother only wants the best for me and has given me the best ; she supports me and encourages me - even as I go off driving now to meet my friends she will be at home happy that she encouraged me to drive. Sure enough, at church the next day Anjie could hear her mother saying, "She wanted to give up on the driving test but I told her she must do it" - a story that would be repeated many times over several years. "Remember how you wanted to give up and I told you to keep going - arent you glad that I stopped you from giving up?" All she wanted was gratitude - was that too much to ask?

"How were Lahiru and Donna? How are their parents? Did Donna mention her that her dad was suddenly fired?" "They are fine and no we did not talk about any of that", said Anjie. "Oh, ok so what's the news?" asked her mother? "Nothing much, said Anjie, this and that, ok bye" and walked off. She know her mother would be upset - she had waited all day alone at home and Anjie was her one connection to the outside world - who had been at work and then out with friends - to talk to and listen to. She would be moody and sullen and not respond if Anjie suddenly mentioned something about the dog or the house. She was losing control and not happy about it.

One text, one photo, two videos, a link - Anjie lost count of how many messages her mother could send in a day. Questions - did you eat, how was the food and statements I petted baby- I hung the clothes - videos of animals doing funny things - serious political interviews - all made their way into Anjie's phone. She tried to ignore them and then the guilt would creep in - her life revolves around me - the anger, almost as if wanting to scream into the void - scream LEAVE ME ALONE - I CANNOT BE YOUR WHOLE WORLD AND THE ONLY SOURCE YOU RELY ON FOR GRATITUDE!

A few hours later Anjie while scrolling social media saw a video and thought of her mother - she would like this she thought - I'll share it and sent it - instant reaction and reply - oh no , why did I send this

"Yes, I'm sure the divorce proceedings will end soon - you have to work on yourself - you must do some charity work " Anjie could hear her mother on the phone in the kitchen as she quickly tried to gather her things together to leave the house in time for her first appointment that day. Bag, phone, keys, lunch, water bottle - Her mother quickly finished her conversation, hung up the phone and came into the living room - "that was Desire", she said, "she needs my counseling - she has it so tough with that man and how he is treating her - are you ready for your day - I made a lovely lunch - I'm gonna read my book now" she said and yawned. "Did you hear what Pastor Mitch said about them looking for teachers at that orphans home close by?" said Anjie, "maybe you could teach there one hour a week and impact some of those lives." Her mother laughed and said "I do plenty around here - I don't need to go out and do anything - I am living a great life of retirement!" Anjie said nothing and left the house. Upon arriving at work she checked her whatsapp and as expected were a series of texts and videos yet again from her mother.

"You are so ungrateful - after all I've done for you. I did not work but looked after you - I could have been a director by now if I had not quit work - see some of my friends the places they've gone now" her mother said angrily. Anjie retorted back, "So who asked you to spend your life obsessing over mine? Haven't you heard of balance? I can cook and take care of myself - I might let you do it so you feel like you have some sense of purpose - but make no mistake that I can do it myself" Her mother looked shocked - all her words planned in response - gone in that moment. This was a fight that took place on more occasions than one and Anjie was fed up of the constant rollercoaster of narcissm that she had to face day in and day out.

After the years of fights - silence between them. Anjie went to work, exercised, wrote and met her friends (the few of them she had anyways) and her mother watched videos on her phone, talked to her friends, and did her errands - nothing left to say - the exhibits of one life of desiring to be loved and one life rejecting the pouring out of obsessive love.