Posted by mysterychicken on .
This is the vignette I've written on my mom; Y was too hard. Is it OK?
My mother, with eyes browner than chocolate and skin soft as silk, works hard every morning just to prepare my breakfast. Gathering us all closely in the warm atmosphere of our family room, my mother sets the table for all of her kids; a bowl of cereal here, a waffle there, and always a piece of toast for herself.
My mother, with a voice as soothing as soft music, whispers her love to me in the night, letting me know that I’m cared for. And when the youngest of us cries out in the early hours of the morning, my mother doesn’t complain, but picks up her baby and calms it in her arms.
My mother, the most wonderful woman I know, is there for her kids no matter what and no matter when; late or early.