Silhouette of a mother lifting her child at a sunset beach, capturing warmth and love.

Prose

Love is when mama leaves the big pieces of chicken for us. It’s her knowing everyone’s favorite dishes and preparing lavish dinners for every kid’s birthday party. It’s how every kid will just fall into her lap for relief. It’s the nights she’s spent by our sides, watching over us when we’re sick. And how strange is it that she cannot sleep when a child is stressed because of something (even when you don’t tell her). When every single namaz ends with prayers for her children and family. Love is the way having her beside me at the doctor’s eases my anxiety and that… her just placing a hand on my head can wash away all my tiredness.

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