HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MA






(c) Darwin Maglalang 
 
I grew up believing in fairy tales and pixie dust. I grew up believing that I was some version of a modern-day princess stuck in a tower, waiting for someone to rescue her. That was what I always was to you—your princess. You raised me single-handedly in this tower of dreams and aspirations, feeding me with virtues and values that I carry with me until today. But as I grew I realized you were not grooming me for a crown. You were not teaching me poise and etiquette or what to do when the clock strikes twelve and I leave behind my glass slipper. You were not training me to be somebody's damsel in distress. You were training me into becoming a warrior.
A warrior. This is what I am today, Ma—a mini version yourself, a mini version of you containing your spunk, your spirit and your wise demeanor. A mini version of you who chooses her battles wisely with the weapon of her choice. A mini version, that I hope, you will always be proud of.
Ma, we've been through tough times and good times. We've chased storms and feared them together and learned that sometimes, a little thunder is what it takes to keep us strong. We may not always be together, but I know that you'll be there when I need you, ready to listen, ready to talk. You're the one person I can turn to, the one person I can trust, the one person who truly UNDERSTANDS me. Ma, you are the most perfect mother a daughter like me could have, and though you are aging and showing signs of it, your heart is as young as mine. You wake up now, and you're 45, and the years pass by quickly, but I am here to grow old with you. I'm here to carry you on my shoulders when your knee begins to throb again. I'm here to dye your hair in the event it turns all white. I'm here to pick out the perfect dress for you. I'm here to remind you to pay the jeepney fare because sometimes you forget to. I'm here to dance "Staying Alive" with you while we conquer the flying ipis constantly pesting your bedroom and your bathroom. I'm here to remind you that you're getting fatter and tease you about not being able to jog. I'm here to spend more days and years with you—days and years of countless conversations over Starbucks and cheesecakes, days and years of being your warrior princess.
Ma, 45 is still too young, and I hope you have more years to come. Happy birthday, Ma, and I love you so so much.
Love,
Krysten