mother’s son

There was once a lit­tle boy whose dad left him to trav­el far and wide to live his life.

This made the boy very sad. His mom made sure the boy nev­er got to see his dad ever again.

A few years lat­er when his dad once came to catch a glimpse of him, his mom con­vinced her boy that he was there to take him away by force, against his will. That would be the last day he would ever lay eyes on him.

She worked re­al­ly hard to bring him up and re­mind­ed him every day what a hor­ri­ble thing his dad had done. The boy grew up nev­er know­ing his fa­ther, apart from all the ter­ri­ble things he had heard about him from his mom. He stopped feel­ing sad. He start­ed feel­ing an­gry.

It made the moth­er hap­py. Hap­py to now have her son all to her­self. A son who be­lieved she was right all the time. A son who un­der­stood how much she had sac­ri­ficed. A son who knew she was the vic­tim and a son who would from here on love only her.

Years passed, the boy grew up un­der the care of his moth­er. He spent not only his col­lege years with her, but when time came to ven­ture out for work, he chose to be in close prox­im­i­ty so she was not alone. They were a hap­py two­some. And then the in­evitable hap­pened.

He fell in love.

With an­oth­er woman.
 

—mala paul

Flom­mist Mala Paul is a pro­tégé of the god­dess of ten hands. Form to form­less all in a day’s job. A moth­er, de­sign­er, dancer, food­ie, fash­ion­ista, blog­ger, who is al­ways ready to be the change. Copy­right © 2016 Mala Paul. Il­lus­tra­tion (mod­i­fied) by Charles Dana Gib­son for Collier’s, 1905.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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