21st Thread: Boundless care turns poisonous

I was always sick and she was always there by my side. I would wake up at night and see her. Her large eyes, shining in the dark, watched me. Every night. During the day too, she kept guard next to my bed. T
he healer told her to get some sleep, but she did not listen. She would rub my feet and hands with aromatic oils, she sat me up to make me swallow potions, she applied suction cups on my back. When I was better, she could have visited relatives, enjoyed a massage, rested. Instead we would travel to a distant province to visit a magical source, or a remote temple in the hopes of curing me. These trips, instead of tiring me, made me feel better. Whatever the destination was, being away from home seemed to heal me. My mother came back exhausted. As soon as we were back, I fell ill and she took up her post, shrunken on her seat. Sometimes I would have preferred to die, or that she go to the pleasure house while a servant would watch me. The sesame cakes my mother baked me always gave me canker sores. Once, on our return from a trip, she got sick. She died quickly, while my health recovered gradually after the funeral rites. I have been well ever since, and I will live my life to the fullest.