Aya yakouti, 15, Azrou. Many of us believe that heroes are rare, perhaps because Hollywood has never ceased to tell us about their large muscle or other qualities an ordinary person couldn't hope to aspire to, but I’ve seen so many that it can’t be so. I've seen teenagers as heroes of kindness, showing the kind of perseverance that would rival any fictional character. I've seen young men helping strangers in the street whenever possible. I've seen people of all religions and ethnicities pouring their time and money into charity, into the homeless and volunteering at schools. Yes, I’ve seen heroes, but none of them rivaled her, she might not have super strength, or laser eyes. She couldn't possibly read minds or move things without touching them. But she always was there for me, and for that I’m forever grateful. She is my mother. I like to think back to the time when I was a child. How shy and uncomfortable i was back then. With cheeks that always seemed flushed and curls that danced a lively dance when i lumbered along to catch up with my mother, my legs were weak and frail that they couldn’t even carry me, it was only a matter of time before I stumbled, my limbs grew heavier every moment, but before I’d fall, she would catch me, her grip tender, yet firm. She would smile at me, and tell me to try again, who would’ve thought that learning how to walk would be as difficult? But I couldn’t be discouraged by my first poor attempts, I would try again and again, and she would laugh at me over and over, until I finally walked with no difficulties. She giggled, clapping her hands at my long awaited victory. Her laugh sounded like a birdsong, so sweet and joyful. It was as if her sound lifted a veil from my eyes that allowed me to see the world more clearly. It's funny how laughter can do that, those honest rumblings of the soul. My mother was fond of surprises -and she still is, as a matter of fact- , each day a multitude of tiny little things, mostly insignificant. And yet they made me smile from toes to lips. Which hand held my cookie? Which way would we walk our way to school? Would it be splashing in puddles or leaping over? It was a real delight; those daily
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