Dedicated to every wonderful mother…
May Allah’s mercy and love always be bestowed upon you, Amen!
She gained weight through carrying me, lost weight after she had me, but the stretch marks remained.
When she was upset from me, when she cried over me, when she was disappointed in me, wrinkles formed in her forehead. Those wrinkles are now permanent.
Her soft hands that used to caress me, hold me, take care of me, wash me, dry me, and clean after me, have hardened as she aged.
From the day she had me, the day she thought she lost me, the days she witnessed me accomplish something big or small, and the day she looked at me and found I grew, her eyes weakened, because she never forgot to cry out of her love for me.
“I hate you!”
“Leave me alone!”
“You don’t know anything about me or how I feel!”
Words that cut her heart deeply, yet still as deep as they were, she was able to forgive me. And when anyone hurt me, even before my own, her hands were the first to wipe the tears off my cheeks.
At no matter what age we are, we will always find comfort in our mother’s arms, and still I can hear her saying: “You will always be my little baby.”
My mother stands old, frail, and weak. Yet her heart is the most beautiful; her soul is the most pure; her arms are the most affectionate; her words are most compassionate; and her eyes are most kind.
She is an amazing teacher, the kindest nurse, the most wonderful chef, and the strongest person I’ll ever know.
Past and present, no one is equal to her, and no one will be equal to her.
She is irreplaceable– a classic, antique, unique figure.
And just as beautiful as figures can be, nothing is as elegant as my mother’s beauty.
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