
BY Swethaa Suresh February 27 When I was five years old, I found a photo of my mother holding me as a baby while I was at school. I skipped my swimming practice that day, forgetting that my mother would be at her pottery class. I was in tears the entire time, looking for her in every room of our apartment in Hong Kong, believing she was hiding from me. I bawled until our helper had no choice but to call her back from her class, unable to calm my hysteric reaction to not being able to give her a hug. I don’t remember much after that, but when my mother tells me the story now, she says that when she finally got home, I clambered into her arms and refused to budge even to let her wash her hands. To this day, I still wonder what evoked that reaction from me at the sight of that photograph, and why I was calmed only in her arms. Perhaps it is simply because I had never imagined a world where my mother would not always be by my side. Maybe I just missed her.