I’ve grown up with three sisters.
We’ve grown to be smart and ambitious.
My mother made sure that we dream even bigger.
We’ve grown older.
We’ve become wiser and bolder.
We’ve planned to become prouder.
Then, they shared their lives with others,
and they brought angels to our covert,
although it’s debatable if they’re from hell or from heaven.
I’ve witnessed the making of mothers.
Not the so claimed ones by giving birth,
but the ones who give up their lives for their helpless ones.
I’ve seeing with my own eyes the reform of those carefree souls,
as their purpose becomes the survivor of those innocent lambs,
and their happiness becomes that of their little ones .
I’ve realized for the first time,
that, my mother, was ones like us,
cheery, ambitious, lost and fragile.
I’ve thought of her for the first time
as a person, who turned her life upside down to take care of us,
to ensure, we grow up ready for this life.
I’ve understood for the first time,
the sacrifices my mother made through her life,
and the effort she made to look strong all those times.
I’m seeing her finally as she always was,
not only a heroine for her young ones,
but a superwoman, one of a very few of a kind.