Rock climb

I strained hard, so very hard I felt large, warm sweat beads escape from my pores. My muscles ached, my resolve and will was being tested. I felt dizzy, and gravity pulled on me, wanting me to fall. It is a long, long way down to fall...

But I fought and I fought, told myself I could do this, told myself I will do this. My fingers ached, as if the skin were being torn and my nails being stretched. My body was burning, but I had one thing in my mind: 

"For mum... I can do this for mum... This is nothing compared to the struggle she has to face against the cancer that is eating her from the inside..." I told myself, however much it hurt, however painful my muscles were, nothing, nothing can compare to mum's pain... 

I pulled myself up, leapt with faith in my own ability to grab on and hang onto the little holes on the vertical wall. I could do it, I knew I could do it. and I did do it.

I hung on the railing close to the ceiling and looked down at the great distance upward I had just conquered. What a feat, what a rush, what a relief it was...

 "For mum... I did it for mum..." For her health, for her well-being, for her happiness, for her peace of mind. As silly as it may be, it is so naive and so childish to think that my rock climbing has anything remotely related with her illness or recovery...

But deep inside I so wished that every success I have, every bit of personal triumph I achieve, can somehow reflect back to mum, and make her stronger, and make her better...