Thud! I slammed the door shut, went to my bed and collapsed. Silent tears were streaming down my soft cheeks as my heart pounded.

“How could she not allow me she said she would? How could she deny pleasure and joy to her so-called beloved daughter?” I thought.

I had asked my mum the permission to set up an Instagram account of my own, but she had refused.

“You’re not old enough, honey,” she had said.

My brain reeled with this memory. She just stood there, her eyes reflecting the sunshine, her simple dress fluttering. I could see myself, too, shaking and yelling hoarsely, about her old ways and stopping me from doing what I wanted to do.

My friends posted reels and stories day and night. And there was I, using my mum’s account and restricted from everything fun. I just wished I wasn’t a teen, that I were an adult and could choose my own life.

My mum woke me up the next day. She was already bustling around, packing her small suitcase in a hurry.

“Ava, you’re in charge of the house,” she said while smearing her soft pink lipstick. “Gran’s very sick and I have to leave quickly. Take care and don’t forget to charge your phone. I’ll call you.” Then she kissed me on the cheek, positioned her glasses and left.

I buzzed with excitement. I rushed to get ready, tied my hair into a messy bun and started to make hot chocolate and a mug cake. Sitting down with a mug of creamy hot chocolate and soft, warm mug cake, I picked out my favourite novel and sat down for a lovely breakfast. I sighed, savouring the freedom.

After having a lot of fun, I sat down for homework. Ding! My friends, Sierra, Zoe and Naomi were on Instagram. I picked up my phone.

“Hi, it’s us. Want to chat?” I read their message. My phone had access to mum’s Instagram account, so she would see if I uploaded anything. That meant I couldn’t use it on my own phone. Sighing, I turned back to my homework.

I lay down to sleep at night, staring uneasily at the ceiling. Dad had come home, but it wasn’t the same. I was used to my mum’s wanderings around the house at night, doing some last-minute work or checking if I had packed everything for school. It was like a lullaby to me, hearing her soft footsteps.

My alarm rang. It was my first time being woken up by the alarm and not my mother in the morning, so I didn’t wake up at first.

“Five more minutes,” I groaned absent-mindedly.

“Ava! Wake up!” my dad screamed. I jerked and saw the time — 7:50 a.m.! “Hurry up, you’re going to be late!” Dad rushed about.

I tugged helplessly at my hair. How on earth did mum do all the work without a single help from anyone?

“Ava, what happened? You look so drained!” Naomi exclaimed after taking a look at me.

“Don’t judge,” I glared. “My mum wasn’t home today, so I had to try my best to do my hair.”

“Quickly fix your hair, Miss Charlotte hates messy hair,” cautioned Sierra.

The day passed quickly. I rushed home, only to find it empty. I called up mum and asked about my food situation.

“I’m sending some food,” her sweet voice reassured me. I heard Dad’s car screech to a stop.

“Here you go, honey,” he said. “Set the table while I dish it out.”

We had a fun time setting out the plates. I looked at the food, it was fried rice with chow mein. I was a bit put out; I wished my mum had cooked something and sent it to us.

After washing the dishes, I turned to my studies. I opened my math book and my gaze fell on the algebra sums I had to do. I needed help. Dad wasn’t an expert like mum, who was an architect. I was tempted to call her, but I decided not to disturb her. All day, I kept forgetting things that needed to be done and then just kept rushing to finish them. Mum had always given me reminders or had done my work herself.

At night, sitting near my window, I felt deeply ashamed of how I had treated my mum. I recalled each time she was right by me to support me or help me get back to my feet.

I remembered when I was falsely accused of cheating by a jealous girl in school, my mum had stood against it and firmly showed her faith in my innocence. I recollected the time when she was going to a special brunch with her friends, but I had a high-grade fever. She cancelled her plan just for me, even though she knew next time all her friends won’t be there, they would be in their homes in another city.

I recalled a memory when I was sobbing at night because I feared might fail in my test the next day. I remembered it as if it had just happened. I could vividly see my mum, tired but caring and ready to listen. She listened to me patiently, her lovely hair coming out of its bun and gently falling across her face.

After listening to my worries, she said, “Well, I don’t know about if you’ll get an A or an F, but I know one thing for sure,” she softly smiled. “You are a great daughter; you don’t need to worry about anything.” Her words had pulled me out of my dark hole and had given me enough strength to stand up strong.

Silent tears welled in my eyes and rolled down. I felt ashamed. Why had I been so arrogant not to recognise the angel on earth, my mother? Why had I been so blinded to assume that she didn’t prioritise me?

The next morning, I got up early. I dressed myself in an outfit my mum loved. I styled my hair into a neat ponytail and prepared a breakfast for two. An hour later, a car drew up. I rushed outside and raced to be in the arms of the most gorgeous person, my mum.

“Hi, mum.” I greeted. “Quickly freshen up, I made breakfast for you.”

I led my mum into the room. Mum’s eyes grew wide as saucers while staring at the breakfast of delicious scones with fruit yoghurt and smoothies. Her grateful gaze was softened by a smile that I will remember forever.

As we sat down, I said, “Mum, sorry for every mean thing I’ve said. You’re a very important person whom I can’t afford to lose.”

She didn’t reply, but her hand gently squeezed mine and her smile soothed me; she had forgiven me.

I will never forget that without my mother, I’m not a stable person, nor a strong girl. She’s not holding me back; she’s strengthening me to face the world. She’s my roots, my guardian angel, my life, my backbone, teaching me how to stand up when I fall.

Published in Dawn, Young World, May 10th, 2025