Words Get In The Way, All The Time

today is my 27th birthday.
i woke up with a bad headache.
i had little sleep because of a little problem.
at 9 o'clock, my sister's indifference signaled that it is going to be a long day.

i got warm birthday messages from friends, kisses and hugs from my husband.
my little Achilles' heel gave me a little surprise: a flower.
of all the greetings i have received, nothing touched me the most but the loving thoughts of the woman i would die without:
my Mother.

she is 62 years old.
still strong and her hair is still naturally black.
her skin is dark and her hands are worn as her years.
she has a brilliant smile and a contagious laugh.

a mother of 11, a widow at 57 and a grandmother to 21 adorable grandchildren.
she survived more than half of the difficulty that we are going through right now.
she walked through storms and fought the floods.
she is still standing today. still fighting.

her story is the most fascinating and tear-jerking of all.
her bravery and lion heart brought us to where we are.
she is never going to give up.
not when she lost her parents while she is away, not when she lost her husband too soon.

her story is not of beautiful characters.
no rich families, no fabulous cars, no castles or jewelry.
she is married to a man who talks much less than she wanted to keep quite.
she is woman that i wanted to become.

i can't recall fond memories with her when we were younger.
for she is always away, earning to send us to school and put food on the table.
i have never heard her complain.
NOT a moment did she say she is tired.

she is up at 4 in the morning since the day i learned to walk.
she takes a nap in the afternoon only to make her eyes rest.
in the evening, she would check if all her 11 children are home before she sleeps.
if one is not around yet, she stays up until he returns.

she washes all our clothes for as long as i can remember.
she loves to wash our clothes, fold them with loves in the afternoon while waiting for us to come home from school.
then and now, she has made that task a perfection.

she talked to our teachers when we messed up in school.
she made amends when things go wrong.
at the end of every single year, she comes up to the school stage and places medals on our necks.
she is just the proudest mother we know.

today, i am receiving the gift of life.
the gift of blessing and the gift of motherhood.
i am not a master of this craft, not even close.
i have my whole life to achieve it.

on my birthday, i remember my mother.
not her sacrifices, not her suffering.
i remember her passion for life and how she made it beautiful for me.
her love is the best gift. now and for the birthdays to come.