I checked the text message at a vibration of my cell phone. My salary was deposited. I was happy because it was the first salary in my life.
‘Is this really mine? How should I use it?’
I thought of many things on the way to the bank with excitement.
‘This is my first salary. I’ll give it to my mother. She has been sacrificed for me until today.’
I withdrew it in cash and handed it to my mother. I thought she would be much pleased, but she just looked at the envelope for a while.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for having done nothing for you.”
I was puzzled as her reaction quite different from my anticipation. I didn’t understand why she said sorry.
“I’m proud of you. Now you have to live with responsibility as an adult from now on. I’m happy enough that you thought of me. Use your first salary for yourself.”
She returned the envelope to me. But I forced it into her hand.
A few days later, I came back home from work, exhausted. Surprisingly, there was a suit in my room. My mother said she bought it for me. My first salary I gave to her returned to me.
Then I realized why my mother said sorry. It was a mother’s heart; although she kept giving me, she only felt sorry for not giving me more. I was ashamed of myself for feeling proud of giving her an allowance just once. I was sorry to her.
The love of a mother, who gives birth to a child and nurses him, is infinite. I’ve even burdened my mother with what I had to bear, under the pretext that I was tired and having a hard time. There is no way I can pay off the debt of her love.