The first cry of her newborn baby is the greatest joy of a mother and the message of happiness that most comforts her heart; it is also that sob, the clarion call for the beginning of a work, or rather of a mission, that will never end until the last of her days.
Because mother is that being who will always be attentive to her child, because being far or near us, she is the support of our life.
Many of them are anonymous, all of them unconditional. From our mothers will be born the best hug, the perfect caress, the opportune scolding.
Tucked in the love of a mother, nothing can go wrong; with them we always feel unbeatable. From the rear they support us in our most unsuspected determinations, with a protective embrace at the ready, with a resolute acceptance of the slightest risk.
The mother is a unique, magical, divine being. She is always there, no matter the circumstance; she forgives, welcomes, celebrates if she is happy, is saddened if you are. Being a mother is not a job, but it is the only condition in which there are no days off or rest.
Mother is the most beautiful word pronounced by the human being. No matter the age, life is always reborn. Years of sleeplessness and dedication, of infinite silence, of constant daring, endorse her service record.
Mom is passion not reason; on her shoulders weighs the constant concern for everyone at home to always beautify life, to love sacrifice, to alleviate sorrow or affliction. Her strength is infinite light in dark, stormy days; it is commitment, impetus.
Like the river of clear water and morning sun, so is mom, the one who dresses in patience with warm embraces that turn winters into springs, holding a smile that serenades and a heart that drives.
