The deeper I scour, the more I fear what I will exhume. Was my mother trapped, unhappy in her own life with her dreams and hopes buried deep inside? Or was she the one who created this mess of feelings that carefully planting the seeds on worries and doubts? The memories I have are broken and confusing, offering no real answers. I just see a woman I really wanted to love, but whose actions often made me feel lost and alone. Perhaps the peace I seek never existed, perhaps it was simply mirage that lustre in the distance, cruel trick of light. I must delve into childhood's secrets that rootle around pain, and truly comprehend my mother, even if it tough.