The woman who made me: Gratefulness for love-filled green eyes

The Abidi/Imam/Zaidi family (don’t ask why we have different last names; I don’t know why either), sit at our favorite local Thai restaurant and order our signature meals on a sunny Saturday afternoon. My legs shake in anticipation as I wait to order and savor drunken noodles. As the waitress, a middle-aged woman, asks around the table what drink and dish we would like, it reaches my mom’s turn, the waitress turns to her and her eyes widen. 

“You have very beautiful eyes, ma’am”

My brother and I look at each other as tears fill our very, extremely brown eyes. The possibilities of us being blessed with emerald eyes race through us, we could be models, actors, through eyes that less than two percent of the world has. 

But no, we were stuck with common, nonunique, regular brown eyes. 

No ancestor of mine within living memory had unique eyes before my mom, Lubina Zaidi, who had a mutation of genes for some biological reason. 

But in truth, over the years I have realized that my mom’s phenotypes are the least unique thing about her. 

Her constant wackiness (her word, not mine) and her persistence towards any barrier have set constant gratitude in me as I know that with her, there is never a fall without a cushion. With the hundreds of bizarre nicknames she has created for me and her constant use of random old phrases in Hindi, my favorite ones translate to “are you getting married?” or “go ask your mother-in-law” when I ask for anything, my mom is the root of laughter not only in our house but even amongst strangers. 

I know that my outgoingness and, for lack of better words, loudness come from my mom, and the presence of energy-filled conversations that I grew up with. Her consistent aura of comfort and lack of shyness shaped my identity of always wanting to strike up a conversation. Her unique perspective and her consistent positive outlook on difficult situations are a propelling force for me and my brother, the cushion we could not imagine doing without. 

Last year when visiting Bihari, the village in India where my mom spent her summers as a child, I realized that even after decades of being apart, my relatives greeted and regarded my mom with the sunny laugh-filled memories of their youth. I stay inspired as I witness her positive impact on the people around us, hoping that one day other people’s eyes will light up when hearing my name the way they do with my mother.

Not only my character, but my mom taught me the power of knowledge and education. After completing a Ph.D. with two children that hadn’t even hit their pre-teens yet and teaching students twice her age at universities across the United States by the time she was 35, I had a role model, one that fought and stayed motivated even as society doubted her. I learned that the stars, not the sky, were the limit, and though failure was guaranteed, success was just around the corner if I pushed enough. 

With her mouth-watering biryani or her contagious laugh, I would not change a thing about her pensive eyes and the heart she keeps on her sleeves. 

Well, maybe the fact that she only wears green and the fact that it brings out her eyes even more. 

But that’s a sob story for another day.

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