It has been five years since I have stayed away from my family. During that time, my mother has hardly ever alluded to her household tasks. In the brief moments that she has,

I have often shrugged it off saying, “What work do you have at home anyway?” 

 

It is only during the lockdown that I've started to notice how my mother works like an invisible force, constantly and diligently in utter silence. I could only get a glimpse of her work, moments before it was “Done”. Moments before she folded the mosquito net, washed her undergarments and folded them away, moments before she finished mopping the house and let the mop air dry underneath a curtain, moments before a quick nap, moments before the instruments were rearranged after my father's music practice. 

 

I couldn't find too many traces of the rest of her chores. Much like her lifelong dedication to household work—invisible.