On May 5th, I recalled in my diary the impact my mother had on my growth.
I didn't write anything positive, as that day I only expressed my grievances towards her.
But love and hate are intertwined. It's true that I genuinely want to go back and see her, and it's also true that I can't fully trust and rely on her.
All I can do is look at the wings and the clustered clouds captured from the airplane window on the way back home. I tell myself that it's just a matter of left and right.