Throughout my primary and middle school days, I went to schools in my neighbourhood. For the nine years, every morning, I would walk to school with my friends, with the school bag on my back. chatting about what was going to happen at school that day.
Even though I wasn’t usually forgetful, from time to time, I left behind something back at home – a paper document, my exercise clothes, or some other item needed at school. When that happened, my mother would often chase me on a bicycle with the left-behind item.
While I was walking, one of my friends would call out,
“Oh, here comes your mother!”
When I looked up, I saw my mother pedaling my bike in our direction. She usually wore a long flared skirt, and the skirt was flapping like a flag due to the wind. Once she came close to us, she stood on one pedal and slowed down in front of us.
“You forgot to bring this with you!”
My mother would hand out my left-behind item of the day and I would take it, a little bit embarrassed. As soon as the mission was completed, my mother would hop onto the bicycle again and head back home, waving at us and wishing us a good day.
It was always a brief visit. But there was always a sense of awe in the air after my mother left.
“Your mother is really cool, isn’t she?”
My friends would tell me with a serious face. But I, feeling queasy, was always quick to change the topic as we resumed our walk to school.