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Dear Mom,

Dear mom,
I dreamt about you the other night, it was almost real. Then i woke up and i realized even though i felt you in my mind, we were still on opposite sides of this world, in different time zones. I then closed my eyes to see you again and i did. You always said our unconscious is incredible; you were right.
Im imagining you reading this now, and its funny because you always complimented my writing even when it was terrible. I think it was your way of encouraging me to express my timid self.
I have so much faith in you, maybe the strongest belief springing from my core is in you. Nothing bigger than you in this world and nothing simpler. You encompass what life was, is and ought to be. Its insane because how can i ever come to know myself seperated from you when you are my source; my genuine soulmate.
I just want to tell you that you trained me well. You did your best and while you juggled being my mother and my best friend you somehow created me all over again everyday.
Everytime i catch myself feeling lonesome or down i remember how you would brush your shoulders off and tell me this is what we do. Then we pick ourselves up because we are that strong.
I know you have your pains and your struggles, just like every artist out there. Except, you are more youthful than you know, more beautiful than you admit, and more brilliant than you think. Your joy is my own and your pain is mine too. I will never stop pushing you, i will never walk out on you, because this is what we are all about.
I am so proud of you, when your strong and when your weak. You are my biggest truth.
So, yes as predictable as i am, this is how i try to make up for the distance.
I love you mom, thats what i’ve been trying to say:)

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What is a woman?

She lowers her voice, goes into an almost silent harmony of singing me to sleep. I could still feel her hand on my hair petting me as though i am still not more than her baby girl.
I close my eyes for that is the safest in the world i will ever be. That is where i have always and will forever belong; physically, mentally, metaphysically and emotionally, with her.
She thinks i dove into sleep, but i was savoring the silence while fully conscious of the moment and her presence.
I shared her life, i completely changed her, simply by existing. I watched her and followed her, i cried for her and laughed with her. I listened to her, i heard her. She was the woman who trained me to be myself, and by that a very similar version of her.
I saw her not as a mother but a person with dreams, hope and pain. I walked with her even ran to catch up; she made me.
What is a woman?
A woman loves, adores, risks and feels. She thinks, doubts, calculates, follows logic and her heart.
A woman cures and heals, she fixes the wreckage within men and other women. She picks others up but can destroy too. She has powers beyond reason. A woman is furious and insane.
A woman is intelligent and eloquent.
A woman smiles to let things go, she does not nag or worry aloud, a woman is responsible for her own problems and needs. A woman understands herself in order to contain others.
A woman is her and i. A woman is what was presented to me, a real show of endurance, dedication and truth.
A woman is still singing me to sleep though she has no one to sing for her. A woman does not pet me, she surrounds me; within and without.
The never ending song in my life..

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The woman i call mom

I take in a deep breath and up my speed; I feel my heart beating and my blood pumping throughout my body. The sea is by side and waves crash with every thought that crosses my mind. People are scattered each doing their own thing, as I pass through and make way for a proper path. I have just started running.

I think about all the times I fell and she picked me up, about my natural childhood and the rules I used to hate. I smile at the incidents where she found me funny, and let me get away with something. I thought about the times where she was working, studying and taking care of the family all in the same day. The times we had to be silent because she needed to prepare for an exam. And just as well, the times we used to nag at night after she had had a very tiring day, and we would get her upset. My mind was going on and on about different incidents of my childhood, and sometimes I was one very irritating little girl.

As I run I picture different families, so many moms chasing after their kids, some scolding them, others laughing with them. The sight is never boring, especially when you are speeding through all these stories, and only get a glimpse of each one. The random happiness, the innocence and sometimes the mischievous moments all imprint images in my head.

I have always been so proud of her and her achievements. I look at all these women with little kids, and the sacrifices they might have given. But not my mom, she always kept her dreams and her priorities straight. Married at a very young age, leaving school and travelling to a new country was just a beginning. Continuing her education and working, along with raising me and my brothers was no doubt hectic.

On a lighter side, having a mom who teaches in a university and who is working on a PhD is no pressure at all for self-improvement! To have an educator, a friend, an athletic coach, a cook, a clown, a comforter, a police force, an investigator and a debater; all in one woman is amazing, don’t you think? Well, I live with all these people and I call them mom.

I grin as I run, for that is an interesting idea. I find my self falling back in my speed for my heart is heavy and my legs are beginning to tire. But when I look to my side I find a beautiful woman, her cheeks pink from the exercise and her eyes meet mine. She flashes a huge smile and gestures that I move faster to keep up as she passes me. My mom out runs me.

As I watch her go, she suddenly slows down and looks back, I feel like I am five years old again and I run to my mom. She puts her hand behind my back and pushes me forward as she runs. The laughing is tiring both of us, for we realize the irony in that and we love it. A few meters later, we both cross the finish line with blazing faces and spirits booming. That was the end of the 10 Kilometer marathon, and that was my mom pushing me through, because she knew I can make it. That is the woman, I call mom.