There will never be enough “thank yous” to compensate for your sacrifice, that sacrifice that evokes nature in your walk, in your journey and in your actions always on behalf of your children who populate the world and live oblivious to that hand that was released the day they learned to walk.
You never cease in your strength, determined, willing, and predisposed to carry this world on your shoulders. Always putting your heart into your flag, country, and religion. Patient, constructive, and brave. Sometimes wounded, with the hardest blows and the most latent discouragement... but you never stop.
No one will ever understand how your stomach compels you to exercise motherhood with such perfection. There is no equal model, it is inimitable. There is no empathy that can understand your condition. There never will be, except through the condition of another mother, one that identifies with the strength of a lion, the stealth and sensitivity of a cat, and the grandeur of an elephant.
There would never be a family as we understand it today. You strengthen its bonds and care for and understand your loved ones, vibrating with their same blood, the one that boils in the distance, in the absence, and in the indifference of individuals who don't look back to see who pushed them along their path. Mother, Sister, and Grandmother.
You never stop searching for paths, building bridges, and waving white flags. With a thousand skills that all seem invisible due to the subtle way you perform them, as if they were part of the individual's vital equipment at birth, an extension of the umbilical cord that couldn't be cut and keeps us connected forever.
Never without you, mother.
Cristina Oroz Bajo