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Maybe she never had dreams for herself.

But I did.

I had dreams for my mum.

Every time I travelled somewhere new, I found myself wishing she could see what I was seeing. Walk the streets I was walking. Sit by the rivers I sat by. Experience the world beyond the life she had spent decades building for everyone else.

And don’t get me wrong—we were never deprived.

We were financially stable.

That wasn’t the reason.

The reason was life.

The kind of life that quietly teaches women to put themselves last.

Somewhere between running a home, caring for family, and being available for everyone else, she stopped imagining things for herself.

Not because she couldn’t.

Because she never thought she should.

A holiday came with guilt.

Rest came with guilt.

Growing up, I noticed something.

My mum never really spoke about her dreams.

But she spoke endlessly about mine.

Every school trip.

Every picnic.

Every opportunity.

She made sure I was there.

She wanted me to see the world.

And maybe that’s why, for years, I wanted the same thing for her.

After three years of convincing—yes, three years—she finally said yes.

Europe.

Switzerland, Amsterdam, Paris, and a short stop in Doha.

Three years of persuading her that she deserved this.

Three years of hearing:

“Maybe next year.”

“Let’s see.”

“Who will manage everything here?”

And finally, a yes.

By then, I knew something.

This wasn’t a trip we could keep postponing.

I didn’t want to look back one day and wish we had gone when we still could.

So this time I put my foot down.

“We’re doing this.”

I asked her one question.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“Zurich,” she said.

The answer surprised me.

And then, for a brief moment, I tried to change her mind.

Because that’s what we do.

We compare prices.

We compare itineraries.

But then I stopped myself.

This trip wasn’t for me.

It was for her.

So Zurich it was.

As I prepared visa documents, booked flights, and planned the trip, I don’t think my mum fully believed it was happening.

Zurich felt too far away.

Too unreal.

Too impossible.

One day I asked her if she was excited.

She thought for a moment and said,

“I don’t know. I have no reference for the place.”

But a few weeks later, I noticed something changing.

The conversations were no longer about whether we were going.

They were about what she was going to wear.

New jackets.

New shoes.

New clothes.

“I will not wear old clothes,” she announced.

She planned her airport outfit.

Made me take multiple trips to Uniqlo.

And honestly?

I loved every minute of it.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t convincing her to dream.

I was watching her dream.

And just when everything finally started to feel real—

OUR FLIGHTS WERE CANCELLED.

And suddenly, we didn’t know if this trip was going to happen at all.

HEAD TO PART 2 TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.