Her
How could a person possibly describe the most important woman in their life. How could they muster words that represent the gushing emotions in which one experiences when thinking about her.
I sat, staring at my screen, wondering how could I possibly even begin to describe, to explain, to put to words. I opened my folders and stared at pictures of us, I recalled all the happy memories, and wondered what sort of post would do this love justice.
My mother, you see, is the sort of person you can’t possibly just love. Her youthfulness, her endless optimism, and her spirited soul make her precisely the type of person to dislike such superfluous, overdecorative words, which I seem to be so fond off.
When people meet my mother, they are always amused by how much I dress like her, act like her, look like her. But no one is ever surprised- because there’s really no one else I’d rather dress like, act like, and look like. My mother was never just a mother, she is was also my first best friend, the sister I always wanted, and the mentor.
I love you mommy, inti 7ayati. Happy Mother’s Day :)
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