FollowAs I’m typing this post, Sherilyn is still stuck in Seremban. She had travelled with her dance troupe this afternoon for a Chinese New Year dance shoot at a temple there. The plan was simple: go, shoot, return to KL. But the weather had other ideas. It has been raining non-stop since afternoon — the kind of heavy, stubborn rain that makes you think the sky has forgotten how to stop crying.
Her team has been waiting for hours in Seremban, hoping for a short window of clear skies, but it’s becoming clear that the heavens aren’t cooperating today. Eventually, the team manager made the wise decision to cancel the shoot and postpone it to another date in December, in KL instead. Honestly, I felt relieved. At least they won’t have to brave another long journey in this unpredictable monsoon season, with floods popping up everywhere.
Every time my daughters travel long distance in a car driven by their friends, my heart becomes a mini weather forecast of its own — cloudy, stormy, and filled with all sorts of “what ifs.” I guess this is part of motherhood; the worrying doesn’t stop just because they’re grown. My mum is 79 and still worries endlessly about my younger brother, who is already 48, because his job requires constant overseas trips and outstation driving. So I suppose the cycle continues: mothers worry until their last breath.
I’m hoping the wet season will ease soon. Besides the safety concerns, the rain has also disrupted one of my most treasured routines — my daily night walks. These walks are non-negotiable for me. They are my medicine, my therapy, my quiet time to breathe and reset. I miss the feeling of the cool night air while video-calling my mum.
Until the skies dry up, all I can do is wait, pray for clear weather, and hope all our loved ones stay safe on the road. Motherhood may come with endless worries, but it’s also filled with endless love — and that’s what keeps us going through every storm.
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