“I love you.”
These three words may seem simple and straightforward, however after a long and stressful day, hearing this short phrase can be the best remedy there is. The ultimate medicine to any problem is the unconditional love of a mother.
My mother’s love was put through the tests when I was embarrassed in front of my entire kindergarten class. Since I am the youngest child in my family, I was often found wearing outdated hand me downs that my sisters had worn. During recess one of the girls trudged up to me and said that my dress was ugly. When my mom picked me up from school, I was heartbroken. I said in tears, “mommy, is my dress really ugly?”. She dismissed this and told me that the other girls were just jealous that they didn’t have the cool hand me downs that I had. Now I understood. It all made sense now. My mom was able to twist an embarrassing situation into a positive experience.
As I grew up, I realized that my mom would be there for me as my troubles became more serious. Seventh grade was a year marked for me by the realization of who my true friends were. Although in the long run this was a necessary process, it was extremely painful. One day I hit rock bottom. I found out that three of my close friends had been writing in a burn book. Sure, my other friends and I had noticed that these three girls had been toting around a little notebook, yet we never realized that it contained detailed descriptions of what they disliked about every person in my large group of friends. When my mom picked me up she could tell that something was wrong, however she refrained from saying anything. As soon as we got home I burst into tears and all the while she rubbed my back. She didn’t make me repeat and relive the horrors of the day, she just sat there with me and let me release. Through her demonstration of her love for me, I was able to recompose myself.
Once again, my mom was supportive when another life changing event happened. During the summer prior to eighth grade, I was admitted to the hospital due to intense stomach pains. At midnight, I had my appendix removed. At three in the morning the doctor announced that I had diabetes. I was in utter disbelief. It seemed to me like my body was deteriorating little by little, first my appendix, now my pancreas; my world was ending. My fright mixed with the remnants of surgical drugs left me unable to sleep. My mom stayed up with me all night, feeding me popsicles. During my whole stay in the hospital, she was there, marking her stamp of love on me.
Though we may take our mothers for granted, we shall never undermine the powers of the unmistakable and unmatchable love that they provide.