Happy Mother
I remember the smell of the food my mother made. It was beautiful. She'd make the dressings in various methods and present it to us like a Ballerina dancing Ballet.
What I loved the most was how happy she was back then. Her smiling face would fill our hearts with happiness and our house, the world felt bright and happy.
I don't understand why and how she changed. It was that one day, when she stopped smiling. She wasn't happy. The food she made didn't have any colours. She didn't perform a Ballet when serving the food. She was sad. Unhappy. Frightened. By someone. By something.
This memory was of my 'Mother'. Uncle's daughter. The reason I took her out of the picture was because she had those eyes filled with weakness, sadness and fear. It made me very angry. Angry enough to take her out of this world...