Aya yakouti, 1 5, Azrou

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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adventures.. I can still sense her excitement seeing a simple flower or the light that played upon the path. In a life so ordinary it was her that was extraordinary, not because she was given so much, yet because she made it that way. As the baker turns flour and water to bread, as God turns seed and water to flower, mother turned the mundane into

fascination and love; she was my heaven, my superhero.

As years flew by, I began realizing the horrors of life, that wasn’t as bright and shiny as I formerly thought it was. My childhood was nothing but calm before the storm, and the storm indeed came. In this storm that howls, she was the gentle breeze. And so I constantly came to rest at her side. Every person needs a harbor, a secure attachment of love - for without one we are in such a pain, so lost and confused. And then life becomes a torture we are expected to endure, surviving, not living. Were it not for her, my beloved mother, there would be no relief, no emotional morphine. She was - and still –is my hero. What less could she be? She is safety and love, an anchor I always hold onto, that I tether myself to because I want to. There were times when I felt like an utter failure, when everything felt so wrong that i would just believe that I’ve had enough, but before I could even see it coming, she would pop in and convince me otherwise. And right when I think everyone would leave, I would still find her, as the one and only person who stood with me through thick and thin. My mother is my tutor, my life coach, and my best friend. If it wasn’t for her, I would be nothing like what i am now; I would surely be empty, hollow; where would my safe harbor be, away from the gales and the storms? Who would shield me from despair? Who would stand by my side when the night comes? Therefore, a future without her would be no future at all, truly unfathomable. She is part of my being; her love had seeped into my skin and rested in my bones. I loved her since the moment my eyes fluttered open, and I will still do, until they shut forever.

There isn’t a person in existence who can love you the way your mother does, and if you think there is, you’re merely deluding yourself. No one would care the way your mother does. No one would put your benefit before their own, no one but her. Your mother is your shelter, your guardian; your forever home... always with an open door, the key is always in your pocket, and her love is always yours. A mother’s love is a divine gift, some beings don’t have the fortune to know it. Those who have it should appreciate it, before they lose it too.

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