some things might be rather mundane to record, but not this.

not when your mom decides to take the longer route on the mrt line to keep you company and talk to you when you return to the hostel; not when you feel so precious as she suggests sitting somewhere after dinner to have a drink and catch up on things, to talk and spend time together one on one. not when you feel so at ease slipping your arms into hers and listening to her soothing calming voice, her advice, her take on life and it makes you want to be a better person than you are now. not when you hesitantly but warmly and reassuringly accepts when she insists on giving you money to top up your ezlink card as if you're still a little dependent girl. not when your heart aches at every cuddle, every squeeze in your hands, every gentle hug and caress as you leave the train and she continues on her journey and you don't want to leave her side ever, like you were a five year old girl;

and you feel that when you have a kid you'd want to be a mother exactly like her a hundred percent and nothing less. dear mom, i love you crazily, achingly so.