She

When I was sick, she always gave me her warmest hug, placed a warm towel upon my forehead, rubbed my hair softly, and sang me a lullaby until I fell asleep.

When I broke my toys, her fingers magically fixed them up. She will join me then and we will both play for hours.

When I first got an awful grade, and fell down crying on it, she led my hands to write again, taught me words and numbers, little by little, all by her very own way.

Now that I’m away, if I felt teary and gloomy, I usually text her all my grieves and sadness, told her all my worries, my doubts... And simply by words, she can change all that to happiness, faith, smiles, and hopes.

My mom is my first doctor.

My first engineer.

My first playmate.

My first teacher.

And since I gave this world my first glance, I know that she will always be my angel. My saviour and keeper, even if distance comes between our existences. Her soul will pray for me, feel my breaths, and simply cast all the harm away. 

And just by laying my faith on this, I feel completely, safe.