My Angel.

I watched her scurry across the hall, simultaneously correcting so many imperfections between the tiny area connecting the living room and the kitchen. The woman amazed me. I watched her carry out her daily chores, with a facade that was so deeply lost in thought, probably about the ton load of work she still had left to do. Exhaustion wrapped around her as she relentlessly worked on the day’s lunch. But beneath all that stress, all that fatigue, lay, by far, the most beautiful woman I had seen. Watching her big, exquisite eyes filled my heart with a sense of security like none other. Admiring her smooth soft skin, gloriously flushed from all the huffing and puffing, made me realize how innately aesthetic she was. And oh! When she looked up and met my eyes, the smile that spread across her naive and poetic face, warmed my soul and made me cherish her presence.

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Throughout my childhood, the one fear that gave me shivers was being without her. The thought of having to pass a moment without her caressing arms and her musical, consoling voice made me go cold with terror. Well, the humorous thing? I’m 20 and I still feel just the same. Some call it the connection from the womb, some proclaim it to be the blessing a woman gets from God. I say, “Look at her! How can anyone even think of not having her by their side.” She was always her soulful, simple self, yet so breathtakingly wonderful. The poise that described her and the innocence that never left her side, made her undoubtedly my favorite person in the world. She understood me like no one else could ever understand, loved me no matter how I looked or what I did. She was mine, my angel sent from above. The one person without whom I could never possibly get through life. My mother.

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