Pens of Fate

My mother is a Beautiful Girl

It's strange. All this time while addressing "Beautiful Girl" in my notebook, I didn't think that my own mother was one. Somehow we put mothers in a separate category from other people, while the reality is that they are just like any person we know. Only, we happened to be brought into this world through them, and they raised us by spending the best years of their life on us, and all that. Yeah.

So...Beautiful Mother, Beautiful Girl, I cherish you. Even if it's some other mother and child I see in the street, I feel a burst of affection towards them, because I know the bond they share. Many times through the day, when my mother is out of sight, I miss her. Then I wonder what would be the last time I see her in this life. That would be a heavy burden to bear. But we are designed to carry these burdens and still live life.

Beautiful Girl, you deserve your rest and relaxation, your fun and games, your personal time, but we children are too selfish. We want you for us. So you keep giving yourself to us. Over and over. Without expecting anything back.

I wish I could be a better daughter to you, and one of my greatest ambitions is that Allah crowns my parents on the Day of Resurrection out of appreciation for what their children achieved as the righteous Muslims of this world. Of course, I want to be good for myself, and I want to be good for Allah, but I also want to be good for my parents.

Now I understand why Mama was crying all day. I can't hold back the tears now. The rest of the words of this passage are written in the ink of my tears. They hold a world in every drop, and you can't put a price tag on the value of a single one.