Balloons like Laughter, Mother like Daughter

I wrote this paper a little over a year ago and I think I am finally ready to share it.

      xx Ella Marie Cajayon

Balloons Like Laughter, Mother Like Daughter

            As light as balloons, colorfully floating, perpendicular and out of tune, that is the universally renowned sound of what could only be: laughter. That is what I hear when I recall this day.  Laughter cued from America’s Funniest Home Videos; laughter cued from my sister, Anica, my mother, and I. There we were. Dressed in our pajamas, pastel and soft to the touch, warming up our skin and our souls, cuddling side-by-side in a blanket. There we were. 

At this very moment I thought to myself, this is what a mother-daughter relationship should feel like.  Ordinarily, I believed I was as almighty as the queen of England. I was fourteen, independent, and the queen of England, and I did not need my mom. Before this moment, space had been growing between us. 

            I was on my parents’ computer playing around on MySpace, secluding myself to my own little world where I was untouchable. As the queen of England would remove her crown, I removed my headphones; I had snapped back to reality. While I got up, my mom asked me if I would like to stay with her and stick around for a little longer. Little did I know, this request would stick around for a lot longer than I had ever expected. There we were.

            But here I was, falling for her proposal to spend quality time with her teenage daughter. Her proposal won me over with her smile, that is, the smile I inherited from her. Looking back, she must have known that her smile would nail it; she must have known it would comply me to fall awry in doing things for her. Why I’d figure so? Like mother like daughter, we share that winning smile. That’s just it. No matter how deeply I let my mom in, she naturally knew me and I naturally knew her. No matter how measurable our bond was, whether as tight-knit as Lorelai and Rory on Gilmore Girls, or as distant as Earth and Pluto, we were still mother and daughter. Hence, like mother like daughter, there we were.

“- it’s all that matters”

I sat next to her on her bed, feeling reluctant, foreign and unusual. Without hesitation she adjusted the blanket and without hesitation, my sister, Anica, and I snuggled inside. Lying side by side, I could smell her. In fact, to this day I can still smell her and the entirety of her room. Her scent unreachable, intangible, but I will leave it at a distinct sweetness. 

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Last time I can recall a time when I had not felt reluctant, foreign and unusual to the thought of spending time with my mom, ironically enough, held a similar setting. My mom was expecting a girl the following winter, which consequently led us to browsing through a baby name book. On the first page displayed the A’s and each name was decorated with pink glitter letters. With each name we read, the idea of one of those names actually portraying a future being, a future sister, seemed impossible to imagine. However, the light bulb lit up for both of us when we came across the pink glitter letters that read the name: Anica.

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I was 7 years old when Anica was born; Anica was 7 years old when this all occurred. All being the three of us, together. 

Anica was on the edge of bed, which resolved to my mom entertainingly distorting her face and cracking jokes about Anica falling off the bed. While joking around, my dog, Jack, was sleeping on the floor by the bed. As the laughter amplified, due to my mom’s joke overlapping America’s Funniest Home Videos, it was no surprise that the infamous Jack awoke. There we were.

I must say, if a video camera had recorded this very moment, I would have easily submitted it to America’s Funniest Home Videos. That moment right there was truly a sight to see. 

“- to be happy”

            As light as balloons, the laughter colorfully afloat, perpendicular and out of tune, took off and landed. There we were. Dressed in our pajamas, pastel and soft to the touch, warming up our skin and our souls, cuddling side-by-side in a blanket. And as I stood up and got off the bed to leave, my mom, without hesitation, spoke from across the room, “Goodnight Ella, I love you.” And I turned around, smiled to myself with the same winning smile as my mom, and replied that I love her too. There we were.

At this very moment, even the queen of England thought to herself that this is what a mother-daughter relationship should feel like.  

The next day a package arrived on my front doorstep. In the package held a book. In the book held this:

This book was a surprise graduation gift from my mom. This book arrived the day my mom passed away.

“- to enjoy your life”

These words assure me that it will always be like mother like daughter, because these words assure me that like mother like daughter we will always be.