Since I was little my mom would make me a rice porridge that’s called Borbar. It’s a Cambodian dish, and a variation of a dish made in China, Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia, South Korea, etc. You can eat Borbar for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Borbar has a savory and tangy taste that's comforting and filling. What makes this dish special to me is that my mom makes it for me whenever I feel hungry or sick.

My mom is a first generation immigrant. A few years ago, my mom told me about her childhood because she wanted me to be grateful for what I have. She’s one of the oldest amongst her siblings, and there was barely any parental figure in my mom’s childhood in Cambodia because her parents worked all day. She took the responsibility of taking care of her younger siblings. Her grandparents made sure she knew how to cook and taught her about every ingredient that went into each dish. My mom had to stop going to school in the third grade to stay home and take care of her siblings. She gave me the education she barely got to experience. But growing up I didn’t think about my mom’s own life and what she went through to get us to where we are today.

Growing up, my relationship with my mom was a rollercoaster. I didn't appreciate her before, because I barely saw her. As a single mom, she was often working late and she came home stressed all the time. I was young and very mischievous so it increased her stress, which made me only see that unhappy and angry side of her. I was a troublemaker, always planning something I shouldn’t be doing. When I was five and six years old I would throw flour around the house and make potions out of our shampoo. When I was little I was scared of my mom because I didn’t understand how wrong I was for making such messes and how much I stressed her out. There are days where my mom and I don’t talk to each other and it’s always because we argued the day before. When I cried because I was in trouble, my older sister would remind me that my mom would raise her voice because she was stressed from work and because I caused her more stress. She told me I should not be too hard on her. She was always advocating for our mother, but as a little kid I didn’t understand why.

During middle school, I started to understand my mother better. I’ve heard stories from my friends about their relationship with their parents. That caused me to reflect on my own family. I began to stop stressing my mom out and listening to her more.

In the first year of high school, I took every chance to hang out with friends and leave my house because no one was ever home. My mom still worked late and I’d often come home to dead silence in the house.

But more recently, my mom has more time, and I have realized I want to spend my time with her. We decided one day to go out to eat together and that became a normal thing between us. Now after countless years of my sister’s reminders, I realize that my mom was always caring for me. I have learned to appreciate everything my mom does for me, from making rice porridge for me when I’m hungry, to giving me what she didn’t get to experience in her childhood. She never had the money to buy herself nice things, yet I know she wouldn’t hesitate to buy me the world if I asked, just like how she would never hesitate to make me a nice bowl of her homemade rice porridge. Making food, I’ve learned, is my mom’s love language. That’s why it means a lot to me every time she makes me a bowl of Borbar. Eating my mom’s homemade Borbar reminds me how much my mom has done for me, so I can be happy. I know that with each bowl of Borbar she makes me she is telling me she loves me.

© Kristin. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.