Travel like the Wind – Suchart Choolee
Two hands, rough and weathered from a lifetime of hard work, gently place flowers onto a beautifully adorned ceremonial arch—part of the elaborate floral structure soon to be used in her son’s ordination ceremony. This moment is not just a religious rite; it is a vivid reflection of the hopes, dreams, and profound love that parents hold for their children.
On a gray morning after a soft drizzle, the sounds of long drums and ceremonial horns signaled the start of the ordination procession. The air was filled with joy, with villagers gathering in celebration. But in the eyes of the mother standing in front of their old wooden house, quiet tears of pride welled up. She wasn’t just a participant in the ritual—she was spiritually walking alongside her son on his chosen path of merit.
She used to say, “If I could see my son ordain just once, I would have no more worries.” A simple sentence, yet it carries the deepest of a mother’s hopes. Her wish was not just for her son to become a monk in the Buddhist faith, but to grow into a good man, a grateful soul, who honors his parents through the most sacred gesture in Thai tradition.
In Thai culture, a son’s ordination is a symbolic act of filial piety. It is believed to be a way of repaying the immense debt of gratitude owed to one’s parents. There is a long-held belief that parents who raise a son to enter the monkhood will “grasp his saffron robe and rise to heaven.” While this idea is not rooted in the core Buddhist scriptures, it is deeply embedded in the Thai cultural and spiritual psyche.
The moment a son dons the saffron robes is seen as a spiritual victory for the parents—especially the mother. To her, the child is her heart and soul. Seeing her son make this virtuous commitment is as if she herself is sharing in the merit. She never asks for riches or fame. Her only wish is that he grows up to be a good person, with integrity, who never forgets where he comes from.
Just the sight of the floral castle, crafted with such delicate care, sends her memory reeling into the past. In this fast-paced modern world—where electric lights reach every corner and the internet connects people across continents—the hopes of parents remain simple and unchanged. They don’t wish for wealth or glory. They only ask that their children never forget home, never forget those waiting behind the doors of that old house.
“Coming home,” in the eyes of parents, doesn’t always mean a physical return. Sometimes it means not losing your way in life. Not forgetting your roots. Not forgetting the hands that once fed you, lifted you, and gave you the chance to grow into someone meaningful in this world.
And in that quiet moment of reflection, a song echoes in the heart—“Mama, I’m Coming Home” by Ozzy Osbourne. A song about returning to the one who has always loved you, no matter the storms you’ve passed through or the mistakes you’ve made. In the end, the one who still waits for you is always—mother.
This song isn’t just a beautiful melody. It’s a voice of longing, a whisper of memory, a reminder that home still exists—and the person who loves you most is still there, waiting, always.
Mother and Father
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