Mama.. 🥹 - by Ruthieee

Mama, How do I begin to write about youwhen my whole life is already your handwriting? You carried me before I had a name,before the world knew my face,before I even knew the sound of my own cry.You carried me like a fragile prayer,whispering to God in the middle of the nightwhen the house was quietand your fears were loud. Nne m,if love had a language,it would sound like your footsteps in the kitchen at dawn,like the soft clinking of plateswhen you thought we were still asleep. 엄마…I learned strength from the way you tie your wrapper,tight and ready for battle.I learned patience from the way you sighand still keep going.I learned sacrifice from your eyes—those eyes that have seen stormsbut still look at me like sunshine. You are not perfect,but you are powerful. There were days the money was smallbut your faith was big.Days the rice was littlebut you served us first.Days your body was tiredbut your smile refused to rest. Ị bụ ike m.You are my strength. I remember how the world sometimes tried to measure you—by what you had,by what you didn’t have,by the children you bore,by the expectations of peoplewho never carried your cross. But I saw you. I saw the silent tears you wiped quicklyso we would not worry.I saw you pray in whispersbecause you didn’t want us to hear the fear in your voice.I saw you kneeleven when your knees were tired of kneeling. 엄마, 사랑해요.Not just because you gave me life,but because you taught me how to live it. You taught me that being a womanis not weakness.It is fire wrapped in gentleness.It is endurance dressed like grace.It is choosing loveeven when love is not returned the same way. Nne m oma,your hands are not softbecause they have fought too many battles.But when they touch my face,I feel heaven. You are the reason I believethat miracles do not always fall from the sky—sometimes they cook,sometimes they clean,sometimes they sit quietlyand watch their daughters grow. 엄마,when I become successful,when my name is spoken in big rooms,when my bank account finally breathes easy,I will remember the womanwho built everything from almost nothing. I will lift you high.I will dress you in comfort.I will make sure your laughterfills bigger spaces than your worries ever did. Because anyị ga-eme ya,we will make it. And when people ask mewhere I learned resilience,I will not give them a motivational speech.I will simply say, “I was raised by a queen.” Nne m,even if the world forgets your sacrifices,I will not.Even if society measures worth wrongly,I know what treasure looks like. It looks like you. 엄마,if I could gather every tear you ever cried for meand turn them into stars,the sky would be too small to hold them. Stay long.Stay strong.Stay the beating heart of our home. Because before I am anything in this world—a graduate,a success,a woman with dreams— I am your daughter. And that is my greatest honor. 사랑해요, 엄마.A hụrụ m gị n’anya, Nne m.

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