The Sunday Mail
Lisbon Tawanda Chigwenjere Midlands State University
DEAR Mom
Mother, there are so many things I would like to say. Things I couldn’t say whilst at home. I am writing this letter from school, because there are things that I have realized whilst I am away from home.
Things that have made me feel guilty. Things I am ashamed of. I have been a stubborn son. Rude.
I have been so disrespectful. I regret it. There is not a single day that I have not thought about it. Many times I fail to apologize directly to you, but I have always apologized. I have apologized to you whilst I am away from you. You have never heard it, because I have apologized on my own; within myself.
When I am outside the house, the elderly women admire me. They say, “Here is a perfect son, in whom there is no flaw.” Even the women at church say, “Blessed is the womb that bore you!” I talk to them respectfully, as I walk down the street. I do not match wits with them.
Even my friend Calvin once asked me, “Mighty man, is this the same way you talk to your mum?” I was embarrassed. Calvin knew that it was not the way I spoke to you.
He knew it because he is my friend. He knew it because I have always told him how I struggle to bridle my tongue when talking to you. I do not know why sometimes we hurt the ones we love.
I do not know why we do the things that we do not want to do. I have the desire to do what is good, but sometimes I do not carry it out. My body fights against my mind. I am not a perfect son. I have flaws. That is why I go to church – to be perfected.
Mother, people do not always agree. Husbands and wives disagree, parents and children disagree, brothers and sisters disagree ad infinitum. Our ideas are not always the same. Our beliefs are not always the same. There are things that we can’t inherit from birth.
Yesterday, you said that the miracles performed by my man of God are not real – but I believe in miracles. I replied that the miracles are real. We fought.
The scriptures tell me to honor my parents in the Lord, so that my days on earth will be many. So I am going to change, mother. It is my desire to live long on the earth.
I will honor you in the Lord. I will learn to live a quiet life. I will not strive. I will not answer back. I will not complain – even if I am right.
So when I come back home during the holidays, I will be a different son. I will not strive. I will keep believing in miracles, but I will stop fighting with you. My life will do the talking. My life will convince you that miracles are real.
Your good son,
Moses
Students, YOU CAN SEND YOUR ARTICLES THROUGH E-MAIL, FACEBOOK, WHATSAPP or TEXT Just app Charles Mushinga on 0772936678 or send your articles, pictures, poetry, art . . . to Charles Mushinga at [email protected] or [email protected] or follow Charles Mushinga on Facebook or @charlesmushinga on Twitter. You can also post articles to The Sunday Mail Bridge, PO Box 396, Harare or call 0772936678.
