my mother is supportive essay

Essay on My Mother

Here we have shared the Essay on My Mother in detail so you can use it in your exam or assignment of 150, 250, 400, 500, or 1000 words.

You can use this Essay on My Mother in any assignment or project whether you are in school (class 10th or 12th), college, or preparing for answer writing in competitive exams.

Topics covered in this article.

Essay on My Mother in 150 words

Essay on my mother in 250-300 words, essay on my mother in 500-1000 words.

My mother is my greatest inspiration and the most important person in my life. She is loving, caring, and selfless. Her guidance and support have shaped me into the person I am today. She works tirelessly to create a nurturing home environment, and her wisdom and advice have helped me navigate life’s challenges. Her love is unconditional, and she is always there for me, celebrating my successes and comforting me during tough times. Beyond being a mother, she is also my best friend, someone I can confide in and share memorable moments with. I am grateful for her presence in my life and the profound impact she has had on shaping my character and values. My mother is truly irreplaceable, and I cherish every moment I spend with her.

My mother is the most important person in my life. She is my role model, my support system, and my best friend. Her unconditional love, care, and guidance have shaped me into the person I am today.

My mother is a selfless individual who always puts the needs and happiness of her family before her own. She works tirelessly to ensure that our home is a place of comfort and warmth. Her nurturing nature and compassionate heart make her the backbone of our family.

She is a source of wisdom and guidance. Whenever I face challenges or need advice, she is always there to listen, offer her perspective, and guide me towards the right path. Her words of encouragement and belief in my abilities give me the strength to overcome obstacles and strive for success.

My mother’s love is unwavering and unconditional. She is my biggest cheerleader, celebrating my achievements and supporting me during difficult times. Her faith in me fuels my determination and motivates me to pursue my dreams.

Beyond being a loving mother, she is also a friend. We share laughter, tears, and countless memorable moments together. I can confide in her, knowing that she will listen without judgment and provide comfort and understanding.

In conclusion, my mother is an extraordinary woman who embodies love, strength, and selflessness. Her presence in my life is a blessing, and I am grateful for the love and support she provides every day. She is not only my mother but also my role model, my confidante, and my source of inspiration. I am forever thankful for her unconditional love and the profound impact she has had on shaping my life.

Title: My Mother – A Beacon of Love, Strength, and Inspiration

Introduction :

My mother is a remarkable woman who holds an irreplaceable place in my life. Her unwavering love, unwavering support, and selfless nature have shaped me into the person I am today. In this essay, I will delve into the qualities that make my mother extraordinary, the profound impact she has had on my life, and the invaluable life lessons she has taught me.

Loving and Nurturing Nature

My mother’s love is boundless and unconditional. From the moment I entered this world, she has showered me with affection, care, and tenderness. Her warm embrace and comforting words have always been a source of solace. Whether it is a scraped knee or a broken heart, my mother’s presence brings comfort and reassurance.

She creates a nurturing home environment where love, support, and understanding prevail. She listens attentively to my thoughts, concerns, and dreams, providing guidance and encouragement. Her ability to empathize and show compassion has instilled in me a deep sense of empathy toward others.

Sacrifice and Selflessness

My mother’s selflessness is awe-inspiring. She always puts the needs and happiness of her family before her own. She sacrifices her own desires and ambitions to ensure our well-being and happiness. Whether it is waking up early to prepare breakfast, working long hours to provide for us, or staying up late to help us with our studies, she does it all without complaint.

Her selflessness extends beyond our immediate family. She actively participates in community service, volunteering her time and efforts to help those less fortunate. Her acts of kindness and generosity have taught me the importance of giving back to society.

Strength and Resilience

My mother embodies strength and resilience. She has faced numerous challenges and adversities with unwavering determination. From personal setbacks to financial hardships, she has never let them dim her spirit. Instead, she faces each obstacle head-on, showing me the power of perseverance and resilience.

Her strength is not just physical but also emotional and mental. She remains composed and calm in difficult situations, providing a steady support system for our family. Her strength serves as a guiding light during turbulent times, reminding me to stay strong and never lose hope.

Support and Guidance

My mother is my rock, offering unwavering support and guidance in every aspect of my life. She is my confidante, the person I turn to when I need advice, comfort, or a listening ear. Her wisdom and insight have helped me make important decisions and navigate through life’s challenges.

She encourages me to pursue my passions and dreams, instilling in me the belief that I can achieve anything I set my mind to. Her belief in my abilities has boosted my self-confidence and fueled my drive to succeed.

Life Lessons and Values

Through her actions and words, my mother has imparted invaluable life lessons and instilled in me essential values. She has taught me the importance of honesty, integrity, and compassion toward others. She emphasizes the significance of hard work, perseverance, and never giving up.

Her commitment to education has emphasized the value of knowledge and continuous learning. She has taught me the importance of empathy, understanding, and acceptance, fostering an inclusive mindset.

Conclusion :

My mother is my greatest inspiration and the epitome of love, strength, and selflessness. Her unwavering support, guidance, and nurturing nature have shaped my character and values. She has taught me important life lessons, provided a strong foundation, and instilled in me a sense of resilience and determination. I am forever grateful for her presence in my life, and I cherish every moment spent with her. My mother’s love is a constant source of inspiration, reminding me to always strive for greatness and to be a compassionate and caring individual.

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Essay on My Mother for Schools Students and Children

500+ words essay on my mother.

My mother is an ordinary woman she is my superhero. In every step of my, she supported and encouraged me. Whether day or night she was always there for me no matter what the condition is. Furthermore, her every work, persistence, devotion, dedication, conduct is an inspiration for me. In this essay on my mother, I am going to talk about my mother and why she is so special to me.

Why I Love My Mother So Much?

I love her not because she is my mother and we should respect our elders. I respect her because she has taken care of me when I was not able to speak. At that time, she has taken care of all my needs when I wasn’t able to speak.

Additionally, she taught me how to walk, speak, and take care of myself. Similarly, every bigger step that I have taken in my life is all because of my mother. Because, if she hasn’t taught me how to take small steps then I won’t be able to take these bigger step.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

She is an essence of truthfulness, love, and sincerity. Another reason is that she showers her family with her blessing and live. Furthermore, she gives us everything but never demand anything in return. The way she cares for everyone in the family inspires me to the same in my future.

Also, her love is not just for the family she treats every stranger and animals the same way she did to me. Due to, this she is very kind and sensible towards the environment and animals.

Get English Important Questions here

Her Strengths

Although she is not physically very strong she faces every hurdle of her life and of the family too. She motivates me to be like her and never submit in difficult times. Above all, my mother encourages me to improve my all-round skills and studies. She motivates me to try again and again till I get success in it.

A Companion of Trouble

Whenever I was in trouble or scolded by dad I run towards my mother as she is the only one that can save me from them. Whether a small homework problem or a bigger problem she was always there for me.

When I was afraid of the dark she would become my light and guide me in that darkness. Also, if I can’t sleep at night she would hold my head on her lap until I fell asleep. Above all, she never leaves my side even in the hardest of times.

Every mother is special for her children. She is a great teacher, a lovely friend, a strict parent. Also, she takes cares of the need of the whole family. If there is anyone out there who loves us more than our mother is only God. Not just for my mother but for every mother out there who lives her life for her family deserves praiseworthy applause.

Frequently Asked Questions for You

Q.1 When did the Mother’s Day be celebrated in India and why?

A.1 Mother’s Day is celebrated on the Second Sunday in the month of May. It’s celebrated to appreciate the hard work that our mother’s do in their life. And the sacrifices that they make to keep their family happy.

Q.2 Why mother is so special?

A.2 They are special because they are mothers. They are the superwomen that do all the housework, teach and take care of their children, looks after her husband, do her job and at the end of the day if you ask for her help she says ‘yes’ with a smile on her face.

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School Education /

Essay on My Mother in English for School Students

Updated on
May 8, 2024

The bond between a mother and her child is one of the strongest and most beautiful relationships in the world. A mother’s love is unparalleled, and her presence in our lives is a source of comfort, guidance, and unwavering support. In the following blog, we will explore the different facets of a mother’s role, from being a homemaker to a working professional, and how to articulate them precisely in an essay form.

Table of Contents

1 Tips to Write an Essay
2.1 Sample Essay on My Mother: For Class 1
2.2 Essay on My Mother in 100 words
2.3 Essay on My Mother in 150 words
2.4 Essay on My Mother in 200 words
3 Short Essay on My Mother

Tips to Write an Essay

Writing an essay about your mother or any other topic requires careful planning and organization. Here are some tips to help you create a compelling and well-structured essay:

Decide whether you want to focus on your mother’s qualities, her role as a homemaker or a working professional, or any other specific aspect that resonates with you.
Organize your thoughts by creating an outline. Divide your essay into an introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion. Jot down key points you want to cover under each section.
Describe your mother’s attributes, actions, and qualities vividly. Use sensory details to paint a clear picture in the reader’s mind.
Support your points with real-life examples or anecdotes that showcase your mother’s impact on your life. These personal stories add depth and authenticity to your essay.
Express your feelings and emotions towards your mother. Let your readers understand the depth of your relationship and the reasons for your admiration.
Ensure that your essay flows smoothly from one point to another. Use transitional phrases to connect ideas and maintain a logical progression.
Summarize your main points in the conclusion and reiterate the significance of your mother’s role in your life. End with a memorable thought or reflection.

Also Read: The Beginner’s Guide to Writing an Essay

Samples of Essay on My Mother

Following are some samples of Essay on My Mother for your reference:

Sample Essay on My Mother: For Class 1

My mother is my superhero. She takes care of our family and loves us a lot. She cooks yummy food and makes our home cosy. She helps me with my schoolwork and listens to my stories. She is kind and patient, and I learn good things from her. Even when she’s busy, she smiles and helps me. She does a lot for us, and I’m thankful. I want to be like her when I grow up. Her sacrifices for our family are countless, and I’m truly grateful for all she does. I hope to make her proud by following her example of hard work and compassion. In my eyes, my mother is the most amazing person, and I love her dearly. My mom is the best!

Also Read: Essay On Covid-19: 100, 200 and 300 Words

Essay on My Mother in 100 words

My mother is my rock, always standing by me through thick and thin. She selflessly cares for me, especially during tough times and sickness. As my first teacher, she imparted valuable life lessons and values. Her contributions to our family inspire me to stay on the right path. Her love and care are boundless, like that of a living goddess. Her simplicity, humility, and sincerity make her truly special. She teaches me to face life’s challenges with courage and determination. Her constant prayers and blessings have contributed to my success. Our bond is based on trust, understanding, and unconditional love. My mother’s presence is a source of strength, love, and guidance in my life.

Essay on My Mother in 150 words

My mother is my guiding light, a beacon of love and care in my life. She wears multiple hats, juggling work, home, and my needs effortlessly. Her unwavering support fuels my ambitions and encourages me to aim high. With every challenge, she stands strong, teaching me resilience by example. Her wisdom and advice are like a compass, steering me in the right direction. She selflessly puts our family’s needs before her own, a true embodiment of sacrifice. Her nurturing presence creates a haven of warmth and security in our home. The bond we share is beyond words, built on trust, understanding, and companionship. Her unconditional love and belief in me are my constant sources of strength. In her, I find not only a mother but also a friend who I am forever grateful for.

Also Read: Essay on Health is Wealth: 200, 300 and 400 Words

Essay on My Mother in 200 words

From the very beginning of my existence, my mother’s presence has been a driving force that moulded me into who I am today. Her enduring qualities have not only shaped my character but have also taught me invaluable life lessons.

Among the numerous qualities she possesses, her kindness stands out the most. She has an innate ability to shower love and care on our family and friends without expecting anything in return. I often find myself in awe of her selflessness and hope that her kindness is always reciprocated.

As I reflect on our journey together, I am amazed at how our relationship has evolved. From being a nurturing figure during my younger years to becoming a confidante and a source of wisdom as I grew older, my mother’s role in my life has been irreplaceable.

Looking ahead, I envision a future filled with shared adventures, heart-to-heart conversations, and the same unwavering support that she has always provided. I yearn to ensure that her efforts are acknowledged and that she experiences the same warmth and care that she has given us.

In conclusion, my mother’s influence has been the cornerstone of my upbringing, and her unwavering dedication continues to shape my path forward.

Also Read: Essay On Best Friend: 100 and 300 Words

Short Essay on My Mother

Here is a sample of a short essay on my mother:

Also Read: Essay on Indian Freedom Struggle – 100,200,500 Words

A. Begin your essay with a captivating introduction that introduces the topic, provides context, and engages the reader’s interest. You can start with a thought-provoking question, a relevant quote, or an intriguing anecdote.

A. An outline helps you organize your thoughts and ideas before you start writing. It provides a clear structure for your essay, ensuring that your arguments flow logically and coherently.

A. Use descriptive language and sensory details to create a vivid picture in the reader’s mind. Incorporate metaphors, similes, and descriptive adjectives to enhance the imagery and make your writing more engaging.

A. Developing your writing style takes practice. Experiment with different sentence structures, use literary devices and read widely to expose yourself to different writing styles. Over time, your unique voice and style will emerge.

Explore more topics on Essay Writing from below:

Remember, essay writing is a skill that can be honed through practice and dedication. By following these tips and guidelines, you can create compelling, well-structured, and engaging essays.

For more information on such interesting topics, visit our essay writing page and follow Leverage Edu.

Manasvi Kotwal

Manasvi's flair in writing abilities is derived from her past experience of working with bootstrap start-ups, Advertisement and PR agencies as well as freelancing. She's currently working as a Content Marketing Associate at Leverage Edu to be a part of its thriving ecosystem.

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Essays About Your Mom: Top 5 Examples and 5 Prompts

Some of the most important memories in our lives involve our mothers. If you need to write essays about your mom, our guide will help.

A mother is a female parent of a child. Mothers nurture their children throughout childhood and, for many, throughout adulthood as well. The desire to support and protect our children is never ending for many mothers.

Motherhood, however, is not always a genetic role. Many people foster or adopt children or find themselves acting in a parental role for someone else’s children. What matters is the effort you put into a motherly role; for most, the instincts are all there.

It can safely be said that a mom is one of the most significant role models one can have in life and one whose influence continues to inspire. I once read a statement that said, ‘one day, you will realize your Mom is the best friend you will ever have.’ That is certainly true for me, and I hope for many of you.

If you are writing essays about your mom, our essay examples should prove inspiring.

5 Top Essay Examples

1. story of my mom by wilbur mckenzie, 2. an open letter to my mom, and all moms by samantha wolf , 3. my mom is a movie star by dan moore, 4. leader of my life: my mother by chelsea gonzales.

5. Your Mom Doesn’t Hate You, She’s Just Trying to Help You by Carly Newberg

5 Writing Prompts On Essays About Your Mom

1. the best memory of your mom, 2. a lesson your mom taught you, 3. what is your mom’s best quality, 4. your mom as a role model, 5. who is your mom.

“My mother believes in me, in everything I do, and is always positive about it. Every decision, task, and every level that I concur, my mom is always there, believing in me that I will succeed. Graduating 5th grade and moving up to 6th grade was a big step, just like graduating 8th grade and moving up to 9th grade was. But my mother believed that I would still do well in school and would enjoy it a lot.”

Mckenzie writes about his mother as his greatest influence and inspiration. He reflects on how his mom always makes sure he is well and how she loves the family unconditionally. He also describes her selflessness, as she volunteers for those in need and raises money for charity. Her mother’s love, selflessness, and encouragement inspire Mckenzie to try his best in everything he does, and he is genuinely grateful for her.

“All I can say is thank you for being an amazing mother and all I want for you is to keep doing what makes you happy and brightens your day. Keep creating and going to the beach just to look at the ocean. Keep running, even if it’s not in marathons and don’t forget how awesome of a mother you are. Keep collecting seashells and spreading your positive energy everywhere you go. I love you, Mom.”

Wolf’s essay is addressed to her own mother and is composed of different notes and letters. According to Wolf, her mother is hardworking, optimistic, and devoted, and she recalls several moments they shared. The moments she describes are heartfelt and profound experiences that many can relate to.

“To this day, she wakes up every morning, marches into our living room, and talks with cancer patients on the phone, lending them her empathy and expertise. It’s amazing, and I wanted her to know I saw all that. I wanted her to know I knew she’s always been a badass. I wanted her to know she’s an inspiration to me, a dynamic, courageous, capable, remarkable person I admire and study every day.”

Moore discusses his mother’s life beyond her role in his life. He briefly tells her life story, then writes about her work for a colon cancer foundation. She spends most of her time consoling and caring for cancer patients; only now is Moore able to appreciate what she is doing. He is in awe at all that his mom has been able to accomplish besides being a great mother to him.

“She utilizes her wisdom by teaching me the ways of life. She rejoices as I apply her teachings in my life and she understands me. The abundance of knowledge my mother has supplied me with continuously fills my life with rare and beautiful treasures.”

In her essay, Gonzales reflects on the spiritual lessons her mom has instilled in her. Her mother is a role model of a strong, Christian woman devoted to her family and God. She is always there for her daughter, giving her advice on how to handle difficult situations. Gonzales aspires to be just like her mother in everything she does, especially when raising her own children.

5. Your Mom Doesn’t Hate You, She’s Just Trying to Help You by Carly Newberg

“I’m not a parent (yet). However, I hope that when I am, I can take what I’ve learned from the obstacles I’ve faced with my mom, to keep the generational progress moving forward. After all, that is one of the beautiful gifts we’re given on Earth; To learn from the mistakes of our loved ones, map out our route accordingly, do our best to get where we are going, and accept the detours along the way knowing those after us will use them to love harder and live wiser.”

In this essay, Newberg discusses a phenomenon we are all too familiar with: mothers arguing with us. She explains that despite their seemingly curtailing actions, mothers always want what is best for us and are even struggling with whether their decisions are correct. Newberg suggests that we should be understanding of our mothers and use these experiences as lessons for how to parent in the future.

Essays About Your Mom: The best memory of your mom

For your essay, reflect on an experience with your mom that you treasure. Perhaps it is a birthday celebration, a trip out of town, or simply a conversation you had. Describe the events that transpired, how they made you feel, and why you treasure them as you do. Also, consider if your perception of this event has changed. Perhaps it has taught you more than you first thought.

One of a mother’s primary roles is to teach her children essential skills and lessons to prepare them for the future. Think about one or more things your mom taught you, whether life skills, values, or otherwise. You can be as general or in-depth as you want regarding what you’ve learned from your mom, but be sure to explain it adequately.

For an interesting essay topic, write about a quality of your mom’s that you seek to emulate- her patience, kindness, or fortitude. Discuss why you have chosen it, how it is essential to who your mom is, and how you hope to use it in the future.

Essays About Your Mom: Your mom as a role model

Mothers are role models to everyone, not only their kids but also to others they interact with daily. In your essay, you can reflect on a time your mom did something truly admirable that cemented her position as your role model. As with the other essays, describe the events, what you learned, and why you chose this. You may also comment on how it has shaped you as a prospective or active parent. Discuss any aspects of parenthood you would like to emulate and those you would not!

This essay topic may seem simple, but one can learn much about a person from a simple biography and reflection. Give readers a general idea of what your mom does, her role in your life, and how she has made you who you are today; paint a picture of this fantastic woman and why she is so important. You can include something about her background and note how it has influenced her, making her the mom she is. Also, you may consider whether any of her inherited traits have been passed to you.

For help with your essays, check out our round-up of the best essay checkers . For help picking your next essay topic, check out our 20 engaging essay topics about family .

Martin is an avid writer specializing in editing and proofreading. He also enjoys literary analysis and writing about food and travel.

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How to Write a 5 Paragraph Essay About My Mother

Writing about someone close to you, such as your mother, can be a meaningful and rewarding experience. One of the best ways to structure your writing is to use the 5-paragraph essay format.

In this guide, we’ll walk you through the steps of writing a 5-paragraph essay about your mother, with detailed examples and lists to help you along the way.

Introduction

The introduction is your chance to hook your reader and provide a preview of what’s to come in your essay. Here are some tips for crafting a strong opening paragraph about mother :

Start with a strong opening sentence that grabs your reader’s attention. For example, you could begin with a quote about mothers or an anecdote that illustrates your relationship with your mom.
Provide some background information about your mother, such as her name, age, occupation, and any other relevant details to your essay.
Explain why you’ve chosen to write about your mother and what makes her so unique to you. This will help your reader understand the significance of your essay.
Finally, give a brief overview of the structure of your essay. Tell your reader what they can expect to learn from your writing and how you’ll be organizing your thoughts.

The First Paragraph

The first body paragraph of your essay should introduce your topic (your mother) and provide a thesis statement that ties your focus/theme to your mother’s significance in your life. Here are some things to keep in mind:

Start with a sentence introducing your mother and explaining why she is important to you. For example, you could say, “My mother is the most important person in my life because she has always been there for me, no matter what.”
Provide some background information about your mother, such as her age, occupation, and any other relevant details.
Explain the focus/theme of your essay. This could be anything from your mother’s resilience in adversity to her impact on your personal growth and development.
Finally, provide a clear and concise thesis statement that ties your focus/theme to your mother’s significance in your life. For example, your thesis statement could be, “My mother’s unwavering support has been the driving force behind my success.”

The Second Paragraph

The second paragraph of your essay should provide examples and anecdotes that support the focus/theme you introduced in the first paragraph. Here’s how to do it:

Start by introducing the specific example or anecdote you’ll be sharing. For instance, you could say, “One of the best examples of my mother’s support came when I was struggling in school.”
Share the details of the example or anecdote. This could include specific conversations with your mother, her actions to support you, or challenges you overcame together.
Analyze the impact of your mother’s actions on your life. How did her support make a difference for you? What did you learn from the experience? How did it strengthen your relationship with your mother?
Tie your analysis back to your thesis statement. Make it clear how this example or anecdote supports your focus/theme and your overall argument.

The Third Paragraph

The third paragraph of your essay should continue to explore the impact of your mother’s actions on your life. Here are some tips for writing this section:

Start by introducing a new example or anecdote that supports your focus/theme. For instance, you could talk about how your mother helped you through a difficult time.
Provide details about the example or anecdote, just as you did in the previous paragraph.
Analyze the impact of your mother’s actions on your life. What did you learn from this experience? How did it shape who you are today?
Again, tie your analysis back to your thesis statement. Make it clear how this example or anecdote supports your overall argument.

The Fourth Paragraph

The fourth paragraph of your essay should provide a counterargument or opposing viewpoint. Here’s how to do it:

Start by acknowledging that there may be other perspectives on your mother’s impact on your life. For example, you could say something like “While my mother has had an overwhelmingly positive impact on my life, I know that not everyone has had the same experience.”
Introduce a counterargument or opposing viewpoint. This could be something like “Some people might argue that a mother’s impact on her child is overstated and that other factors, such as genetics or upbringing, are more important.”
Analyze the counterargument or opposing viewpoint. Explain why you disagree with this perspective and provide evidence to support your argument. This could include personal anecdotes, statistics, or expert opinions.
Finally, tie your analysis back to your thesis statement. Make it clear how your counterargument supports your overall argument and reinforces the importance of your mother’s impact on your life.

The Fifth Paragraph

Your essay’s fifth and final paragraph should summarize your main points and provide a conclusion. Here’s how to do it:

Start by summarizing the key points you’ve made in your essay. Remind your reader of your focus/theme, thesis statement, and the examples and anecdotes you’ve shared.
Provide a final analysis of your mother’s impact on your life. Explain why she is so important to you and what you’ve learned from your experiences with her.
End with a firm conclusion. This could be a call to action, a personal reflection, or a final thought that ties everything together. For example, you could end with something like, “My mother will always be my role model and inspiration. I hope I can be as supportive and loving as she has always been to me someday.”

Example essay about my mother

My mother is the most important person in my life. She has been there for me through thick and thin, always supporting and encouraging me to be the best I can be. Her unwavering love and dedication have been a constant source of strength for me, and I am forever grateful for everything she has done for me. Firstly, my mother is the epitome of selflessness. She always puts the needs of others before her own, and she never complains about it. Whether it is cooking my favorite meal or staying up all night to help me with my homework, she never hesitates to go the extra mile to ensure I am happy and well taken care of. My mother is sage and insightful. She has a wealth of life experience and a deep understanding of human nature, and she has always been there to offer me sage advice whenever I need it. Her words of wisdom have helped me navigate many difficult situations and have given me the tools to face any challenge that comes my way. I believe that my mother is the embodiment of hard work and perseverance. She has always been a role model for me when it comes to putting in the effort to achieve one’s goals. Watching her work tirelessly day in and day out to provide for our family has taught me the value of hard work and the importance of never giving up. Also, my mother has a great sense of humor and an infectious zest for life. Even in the most challenging of times, she always finds a way to make me laugh and to see the bright side of things. Her positive attitude and sunny disposition have taught me the importance of looking on the bright side and never giving up hope. In conclusion, my mother is the most amazing person that I know. Her selflessness, wisdom, hard work, and sense of humor have impacted my life immeasurable, and I am so grateful for everything she has done for me. I hope that one day I can be half the person that she is, and that I can make her as proud of me as I am of her.

Example 2: A Portrait of Strength and Love: My Mother

In the tapestry of my life, there is one thread that shines brighter than all others – the unwavering presence of my mother. She is not just a figure in my life; she is the cornerstone, the guiding light, and the epitome of love and strength. In this essay, I aim to paint a vivid portrait of the woman who has shaped me into who I am today. Body: My mother’s love knows no bounds. It is a force of nature, gentle yet unyielding, like the steady flow of a river that nourishes all in its path. From the moment I came into this world, she cradled me in her arms, her touch a soothing balm that could heal any wound, physical or emotional. Her love is not confined to mere words; it is expressed through her actions, through the countless sacrifices she has made for our family. One of the most remarkable traits of my mother is her boundless strength. She has weathered storms that would have broken lesser souls, yet she emerged from the tempest stronger than ever. I have seen her face adversity with grace and courage, never once faltering in her resolve. She is the backbone of our family, the one we turn to in times of need, knowing that her strength will carry us through even the darkest of days. But my mother is not just a beacon of strength; she is also a source of wisdom and guidance. Her words are infused with a depth of knowledge that can only come from a life well-lived. Whenever I am faced with a difficult decision or grappling with uncertainty, I know that I can turn to her for counsel, and she will always steer me in the right direction. Despite the many roles she juggles – mother, wife, daughter, friend – my mother always finds time to nurture her passions and pursue her dreams. Whether it’s tending to her garden, losing herself in a good book, or simply enjoying a quiet moment of reflection, she reminds me of the importance of self-care and staying true to oneself. Conclusion: In the tapestry of my life, my mother is the brightest thread, the one that adds color and meaning to the fabric of my existence. She is my rock, my confidante, and my greatest source of inspiration. As I navigate the journey of life, I am grateful to have her by my side, guiding me with her love, wisdom, and unwavering strength. My mother is not just a woman; she is a force of nature, and I am blessed to call her mine.

Final remarks

In conclusion, writing a 5-paragraph essay about your mother can be a meaningful and rewarding experience. By following the structure outlined in this guide, you can organize your thoughts and ideas clearly and effectively.

Remember to introduce your mother, explain your focus/theme, provide examples and anecdotes, and tie everything back to your thesis statement.

With these tips and tricks, you’ll be well on your way to crafting a compelling essay about the most important woman in your life.

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Home Essay Samples Life Mother

The Person I Admire the Most: My Mother

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Descriptive Essay

Descriptive Essay About My Mother

Descriptive Essay About My Mother - A Guide to Writing

Descriptive Essay - What You Need to Know

A descriptive essay is a type of essay that uses words to describe an object, person, experience, or place. The purpose of writing this type of essay is to provide the reader with a vivid and clear description of something. The writer must use sensory details, such as sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste to make the reader experience the topic.

When writing about a person such as your mother, you need to describe the characteristics that make her unique. It can include personality traits or experiences that make her special.

Reading a few essay samples will help you out! So read on to find good examples and tips.

How to Write a Descriptive Essay About My Mother - 8 Easy Steps

Writing a heartfelt and vivid descriptive essay about your mother requires careful consideration.

Here, we'll guide you through the process step by step, helping you express your feelings and admiration effectively:

Step 1: Choose a Focus

Decide on a specific aspect or trait of your mother that you want to describe. It could be her appearance, personality, nurturing qualities, or a particular event that showcases her character.

Step 2: Brainstorm Descriptive Words

Make a list of adjectives and descriptive words that come to mind when you think about your mother. Try to capture the essence of her being.

Step 3: Create an Outline

Organize your thoughts by creating a descriptive essay outline . Decide on the structure, such as the introduction, body, and conclusion, and what aspects you'll cover in each section.

Step 4: Start with a Hook

Begin your essay with an engaging hook or an anecdote that draws the reader in. It can be a personal memory or a captivating description of your mother.

Step 5: Descriptive Details

In the body of your essay, use sensory details to paint a vivid picture. Describe her appearance, mannerisms, and the emotions she evokes. Incorporate the descriptive words from your brainstorming list.

Step 6: Emotions and Memories

Share your personal emotions and memories associated with your mother. How does she make you feel, and what experiences have shaped your relationship with her?

Step 7: Use Metaphors and Similes

Employ metaphors and similes to enhance your descriptions. Compare her to elements from nature, objects, or anything that can add depth to your portrayal.

Step 8: Show, Don't Tell

Instead of simply stating qualities, show them through actions, interactions, and specific examples. Let the reader experience her through your words.

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Examples of Descriptive Essay About My Mother

Exploring essay examples can provide valuable insights for crafting an essay that deeply connects with your readers.

Below, you'll find both a descriptive essay about my mother and an analysis of its content.

Why This Descriptive Essay Works

Here are several reasons why this descriptive essay is effective:

Emotional Connection

The essay immediately establishes an emotional connection with the reader through its theme of a mother's love. The use of descriptive language and personal anecdotes invites the reader to empathize and relate to the feelings and experiences described.

Vivid Imagery

The essay employs vivid imagery to paint a clear picture of the mother and her attributes. The descriptions of her eyes, hands, voice, and smile create a sensory experience for the reader, making them feel as if they are present with the author.

The essay uses symbolism effectively to convey the depth of the mother's love. The mother's eyes, for example, symbolize her wisdom and the shared experiences with the author. The use of the mother's hands as a source of healing symbolizes her nurturing and caring nature.

Structure and Flow

The essay is well-structured and flows seamlessly from one descriptive element to another.

It begins with a general introduction, moves into specific descriptions, and ends with a strong, heartfelt conclusion. This organization keeps the reader engaged and ensures a logical progression of ideas.

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Emotional Impact

The essay's emotional impact is profound. It not only describes the mother's physical attributes but also delves into the intangible qualities that make her special. The reader is left with a deep sense of appreciation for the role of a mother and the love she provides.

Relatability

The essay's theme of maternal love is universal, making it relatable to a broad audience. Most readers can connect with the feelings of love, protection, and guidance that the author describes.

If you still find it challenging to write a descriptive essay, consider these additional examples for guidance.

Descriptive Essay About My Mother PDF

Descriptive Essay About My Mother My Hero

Descriptive Essay Example About Mother

Descriptive Essay About My Mother 200 Words

Descriptive Essay On My Mother's Kitchen

Sample Descriptive Essay About My Mother

Here is a video of another short essay example about mother:

Want to read descriptive essays on other topics as well? Here are more descriptive essay examples that will help you out!

Tips to Write a Descriptive Essay About Mother

Now that you’ve read the examples, let’s look at some tips that will lead you to essay writing success.

Start with the Basics

Begin by brainstorming ideas of what makes your mother special and why she is important to you. Think about her personality traits, accomplishments, quirks, and unique qualities. In addition, consider the ways that your mother has influenced you and shaped your life.

You can also practice your writing skills with other descriptive essay topics . So write away!

Create an Outline

Once you have all of your ideas written down, create an descriptive essay outline that will guide the structure of your essay. This should include sections for your introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion.

Capture Her Essence

Use vivid language to capture the essence of who your mother is. Utilize descriptive words and phrases that will help your reader understand who your mother is and what she means to you.

Show, Don’t Tell

Instead of simply telling the reader about your mother’s traits or accomplishments, use stories and examples to illustrate them. This will make your essay more interesting to readers.

Keep Your Tone Consistent

Maintaining a consistent tone throughout ensures a cohesive narrative without feeling disjointed or scattered. This keeps readers interested until they reach their conclusion!

Don’t Forget the Conclusion

Summarize the main points of your essay in your conclusion and provide a call to action for readers. Maybe you’ll leave them feeling inspired or motivated to do something special for their own mother.

Revise & Edit Diligently

Revision is key when putting together any written piece. Read over your work multiple times and fix any errors in spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. Also improve any awkward phrasing or unclear ideas that might not be conveyed effectively enough.

To sum it up,

Writing a descriptive essay about your mother doesn't have to be difficult. With our guide and examples, you can easily write an effective essay that will make your mother proud! So get started today, and create the perfect essay for her!

By following these tips and examples, you will find it easier to write a meaningful descriptive essay about your mother. Good luck!

Looking for a professional descriptive essay writer to write it for you? We're right here for you!

You can trust our custom essay writing online for all your essay needs. We offer top-notch essay writing help to you get the best grade possible. Our essay writers are experienced and qualified to handle any essay topic with ease.

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“To me, my mother defines resilience. She had such strong faith and was a very giving and positive person.”

When I was a young girl and something difficult happened, I would look to my mother for comfort and guidance. She was always there for me, helping me work through the issue or helping me gain perspective. No matter what, my mom had a positive outlook and she taught me to value the wonderful moments in life—and how to persevere in difficult times.

At the time, I had no knowledge of the difficulties, hardships, and losses she had endured. Growing up during the Great Depression, my mom lost two sisters in their childhood, suffered from tuberculosis, and supported her youngest sister through a car accident that left her a paraplegic at age nineteen.

To me, my mother defines resilience. She had such strong faith and was a very giving and positive person. Our house was like a central hub for family and friends; no one ever left hungry or without feeling a bit better than they did when they arrived.

As a child, one thing my mother would often say to me was, “this too shall pass.” At first, I found this annoying. What I was dealing with seemed like the most important and difficult thing ever! How would it ever be okay again? How would it get better? As I matured, I realized she was right. Life moves on and we all have a choice to move forward or back. She always chose moving forward.

My biggest personal challenge was losing my parents. My dad passed away two short years after my mother. They were so important to me and influential in all aspects of my life—from my belief that I could do anything I wanted professionally, to how to raise our children. They were my go-to people: the people I wanted to talk to no matter what had happened, what mistakes I made, or what joy I was feeling. Their absence was painful and more challenging than I had ever imagined. The dynamic at our holiday dinners was markedly different. For years, I hated Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. They weren’t a phone call away when I needed advice or wanted to share something special. It was a real sense of loss—something you can’t understand until you are living it.

Thinking about my mom’s advice that “this too shall pass” gave me the strength to carry on and live life day-by-day, moment-by-moment. Like so many others who have faced the loss of family and friends, time does help mend our heavy hearts, but it is resilience that allows us to continue to move forward.

“This too shall pass,” doesn’t mean that the problem, feelings or situation will magically disappear. Rather, it can lead to a very reflective thought process that helps you find inner strength to address the challenge at hand or simply continue to put one foot in front of the other.

So as you face obstacles and challenges, as we all do, I hope my mother’s advice will help you choose to move forward, find solutions and make the best of what life has to offer.

Under Mary’s leadership, GM is focused on strengthening its core business while working to lead the transformation of personal mobility through advanced technologies such as connectivity, electrification, autonomous driving and car sharing. Barra has established a strategic direction based on putting the customer at the center of everything the company does, all around the world. She was elected Chairman of the GM Board of Directors on January 4, 2016, and has served as CEO of GM since January 15, 2014. Stay in touch with Mary via Facebook , LinkedIn and Twitter .

By Mary Barra • May 2017

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“My mother is my role model, she inspires and motivates me to grow without any barriers”

Children with disabilities, global youth ambassadors, diksha dinde, diksha dinde, a 23-year-old student and activist from india, tells how her mother is her role model and the reason she was able to get an education and fulfil her potential..

Super humans. We read about them, watch them and admire them in the virtual world – but I live with a superhuman. She is my mother.

I am Diksha Dinde, a 23-year-old student and activist from India. I am 84% differently abled, trying to break the stereotypes related to disabled people.

Be it teaching underprivileged children from the slums near where I live or raising awareness to break taboos around menstruation, I have been doing my part to make this world a better place to live.

My mother, Mrs Chitrarekha Dinde, is my role model. She inspires and motivates me to grow without any barriers. It seems to me that this woman looks at life as a challenge and wholeheartedly intends to seize the day every day. My mother looked after me and supported me in every part of my life. Right from childhood she has been with me like my shadow. It had been riddled with hurdles and difficulties, but she has managed to cross them all to because of the amazing and independent person she is.

Being physically challenged I am not able to move by myself and because of this I have not been able to do daily routine activities since childhood. At the beginning this was a hardship for my mother, but she was determined to make it work.

She not only helped me whenever I needed but she also taught me to help myself. She taught me to keep myself clean and neat, how to eat and how to know how much to eat. She says, “a child does not learn from what parents say but from what parents do”.

I have had three operations and various therapies on my spine but none have been successful. I was rejected from schools because of their lack of infrastructure and facilities. I was finally admitted to one school.

My mother had to be there with me the whole day, but at the same time she also had to handle our home life. So she started tailoring and working during school hours. That is how she was able to satisfy financial needs in the home.

Now I’ve graduated in Business Administration and I’m pursuing a Masters.

Whenever I look at my mother I see an ordinary person but when I think about what she does and how she does it she becomes divine and the reason of my smile!

The experience of my life so far has truly brought things into perspective. My mother has taught me that hard times can be overcome and that losing battles can be won. She has taught me more than I could have learnt from any book.

She sets an inspirational example to me teaching me how to live life and make wise choices, even in the most uncertain situations.

I respect her a lot. She is my inspiration, my role model.

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My Mother Essay

Mother is the foundation of a family. Mother is the one who brought us to see this beautiful world. It's a single word with thousands of emotions. Mother is called by different names in different languages like Maa in Hindi and Bengali, Amma in Tamil and Malayalam, Bha in Gujarati, Aaiy in Marathi, Talli in Telugu, Thayi in Kannada. Here are a few sample essays on "my mother".

100 Words Essay on My Mother

200 words essay on my mother, 500 words essay on my mother, my role model.

The Greatness of Mother's Love

My mother is a very important person and an inspiration in my life. She is the world to me. She is my first teacher. Every good habit I have is just because of her teachings. My mother is my constant motivator. Whenever I fail to perform, she is alone to stand and encourage me.

Whenever I am lost, my mother is the only one to bring me to the right path. There are situations where she is not physically present to guide, but her teachings always act as a guiding light. It is well said that "Life doesn't come with a manual; it comes with a mother." I wonder how appropriate this line is! When a child is born, it's the mother who understands the most about what to teach to her child and what not.

"God couldn't be everywhere, so he created mothers." A mother is a person whom the child knows from the womb itself. Nobody on this Earth knows a child better than their mother. Everybody on this Earth can harm a child except the mother. She knows what, when, why, how, and everything about her child. A mother can play all the roles of a child, from being a feeder to being a superhero. Nothing is challenging for her. Home is never a home where there is no mother.

Mother: Creation of God

She is the most beautiful creation of God. It is said that if a child doesn't have a father, the mother can do anything for the survival of her children, but if a child doesn't have a mother, life never remains easy for the child. Only a mother gives selfless love to her child; she can sleep hungry but never let her child sleep hungry.

My mother is my superhero. I always get surprised to see her being the first one to wake in the morning and the last one to sleep in the night, still with the same smile and zero complaints. How can a person remain so cheerful throughout? She is the one to teach that, however hard it may be, the day there will always be a beautiful morning waiting for you when you open your eyes.

Mother is the one who plays and handles all her relationships well, from being a daughter herself, being a sister, being a wife, being a daughter-in-law, being a sister-in-law to being a mother and then grandmother. We keep growing up throughout but for a mother, a child is always a child, regardless of age you become. She is the most powerful creature in this Universe. She can be a gentle wind, and at the same time, she can be a cyclone to a hurricane if someone tries to harm her child.

My mother is my inspiration and my role model. I believe nobody in this world can understand me more than her. She can read through and figure out what's going on in my mind. How can someone be so exact in reading someone's mind? She gets up at 5 a.m in the morning and prepares breakfast and lunch, never forgetting about anybody's choices. She then packs it for everybody on it. When we return, we see her working and arranging things with the same enthusiasm and smile she had in the morning. I again wonder how someone can be without complaining about something. I see her always having a solution handy to almost all the problems that we share with her.

"Mother's love is the fuel that boosts your willingness."

The Greatness of Mother's Love

There is a famous story about Albert Einstein's mother. It was said that Albert was not able to read when he was in elementary school. So one fine day, a teacher sends a note to his mother that they would not be able to teach her child as her child was too dumb to teach anything. Tears began rolling in her eyes when she read it to her son. She read that since her child was so smart, the teachers would no longer be able to teach him. Then she bought books for him and started teaching him all by herself, and today everything is history. Only a mother can give wings to her child's dreams.

We have often seen children sending their aged mothers to old age homes but have never seen a mother sending her child to an orphanage. It is very painful to see such people sending their source of existence to suffer till they live. We have seen mothers leaving their well-paid jobs to see their children grow, to teach good things to their children. Nobody on this Earth can ever repay a mother's sacrifice, however rich they may become.

My Mother: My Hero

My mother is my bundle of joy, the first person I search for when I enter the house is my mother. She will smile and then scold me for shouting and disturbing the entire house. Patience level of my mother is a blessing from the divine; she is always very calm and composed. My mother is often very strict, which is obviously for my good. She would not let me use my mobile phone and laptop for too long as it would affect me. She teaches me to be kind to others. I want to become a superhuman like my mother. "Mother is the most beautiful flower on this Earth; each is unique and holds a different fragrance."

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Essay on Why My Mom And Dad Are The Greatest

Students are often asked to write an essay on Why My Mom And Dad Are The Greatest in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on Why My Mom And Dad Are The Greatest

My mom: a pillar of love and support.

My mom is the most loving and supportive person in my life. She is always there for me, no matter what. She listens to my problems, gives me advice, and always makes me feel better. She is also the best cook in the world! Her meals are always delicious, and she always makes sure that I have plenty to eat. I am so grateful to have her as my mom.

My Dad: A Role Model and Hero

My dad is my role model and hero. He is a hard worker who always puts his family first. He is also a kind and compassionate person who is always willing to help others. I admire him for his strength, courage, and intelligence. He is the best dad in the world, and I am so proud to have him as my father.

Together, They Are the Best

My mom and dad are the best parents anyone could ask for. They are loving, supportive, and always there for me. They are also role models and heroes who I admire and respect. I am so grateful to have them in my life, and I know that I am lucky to have them as my parents.

250 Words Essay on Why My Mom And Dad Are The Greatest

My mom: the heart of our home.

My mom is the heart of our home. She’s always there for us, no matter what. She’s the one who makes us feel loved and safe. She’s the one who listens to our problems and always knows how to make us feel better. She’s the one who takes care of us when we’re sick, and the one who celebrates our successes with us. She’s the glue that holds our family together.

My Dad: The Strong Pillar of Our Family

My dad is the strong pillar of our family. He’s the one who provides for us and protects us. He’s the one who teaches us right from wrong and shows us how to be good people. He’s the one who encourages us to follow our dreams and never give up. He’s the one who makes us feel safe and secure. He’s the rock that our family is built on.

Together, They Are the Greatest

My mom and dad are the greatest because they love us unconditionally. They always put us first, even when it means sacrificing their own needs. They’re always there for us, no matter what we do or say. They’re our biggest fans and our strongest supporters. They’re the best parents anyone could ask for.

I’m so grateful to have my mom and dad in my life. They’re the best parents anyone could ask for. I love them more than words can say.

500 Words Essay on Why My Mom And Dad Are The Greatest

My mom: a source of unconditional love.

My mom is the most loving person I know. She has always been there for me, no matter what. When I was younger, she would always kiss my boo-boos and make them better. Now that I’m older, she’s still there for me to talk to about anything, no matter how big or small. She always knows how to make me feel better and I know that I can always count on her.

My Dad: A Strong and Supportive Role Model

My dad is a strong, supportive and hard-working man. He has shown me what it means to be a good husband and father. He has always been there for me, both physically and emotionally. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to play baseball, and how to be a good person. He is always there to listen to me and give me advice. I know that I can always count on him, no matter what.

My Parents: A Team That Works Together

My mom and dad are a team that works together to make our family happy. They are always there for each other, through thick and thin. They are also always there for me and my siblings. They are the best parents I could ever ask for.

Why I Am Grateful for My Parents

I am so grateful for my parents. They have given me so much love, support, and guidance. They have helped me to become the person I am today, and I know that I would not be where I am without them. I am so lucky to have them in my life.

My mom and dad are the greatest because they are loving, supportive, and always there for me. They are a team that works together to make our family happy. I am so grateful for them and I know that I would not be where I am today without them.

That’s it! I hope the essay helped you.

If you’re looking for more, here are essays on other interesting topics:

Essay on Why It’s Important To Learn About Other Cultures
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6 reasons why my mom is my biggest supporter, from diapers to diplomas: how my mom has been there every step of the way..

From elementary school to college, I have always been fortunate enough to have great friends in my life. And although some of my friends have been a part of my life for longer than others, no relationship will ever compare to the relationship I share with my mother. From our goofy inside jokes to our talks about life, I I know that I can always count on my mom for anything; my mom is my greatest supporter. Here are the reasons why my mom is my rock.

1. She reminds me of my worth.

Whenever I’m discouraged, my mom knows the right words to say to pick me right back up. My mom is always there to remind me that God has a bigger plan for me.

2. She goes out of her way to make sure that I'm happy.

I can always count on my mom to make sure that I am in good spirits. I am beyond blessed to have the kind of mom who will drive an hour to my school just to make me smile when I'm down. I can always count on my mom to make me genuinely laugh (or, in other cases, to laugh at).

3. She watches corny movies with me, just so that we can spend time together.

My mom and I definitely have different taste in comedy, but despite these differences, I know that I can always count on her to sit through "Mean Girls" or "The Interview" with me -- just to hear me recite every line or laugh obnoxiously. My mom would watch any movie with me if it meant that we could spend some time together!

4. She reads ALL of my articles.

Every article that I publish, I can always count on my mom to be the first to like and give me her feedback. She takes so much pride in my writing that she sometimes pretends that articles are the both of ours! I love knowing that I will always have at least one fan in my corner.

5. She gives me the best advice.

I know I can always count on my mom to give me the best advice about any given topic. Whether or not I agree with her at the time, I know that my mom is always looking out for my best interest. In the end, mom is always right!

6. She supports the decisions that I make.

Whether I’m doing something like joining a sorority or considering another career path, my mom always supports everything that I do. Not only does she support my decisions, but she also always makes me feel like I’ve made the right choices. Knowing that I can always count on my mom to support me makes me feel like she will stand by me no matter what decision I make.

I am extremely fortunate to call my mom a role model, a friend, and a supporter. These are just a few of the things that make my mom an amazing figure in my life. Thank you mommy for being all that you are! I love you!!

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25 beatles lyrics: your go-to guide for every situation, the best lines from the fab four.

For as long as I can remember, I have been listening to The Beatles. Every year, my mom would appropriately blast “Birthday” on anyone’s birthday. I knew all of the words to “Back In The U.S.S.R” by the time I was 5 (Even though I had no idea what or where the U.S.S.R was). I grew up with John, Paul, George, and Ringo instead Justin, JC, Joey, Chris and Lance (I had to google N*SYNC to remember their names). The highlight of my short life was Paul McCartney in concert twice. I’m not someone to “fangirl” but those days I fangirled hard. The music of The Beatles has gotten me through everything. Their songs have brought me more joy, peace, and comfort. I can listen to them in any situation and find what I need. Here are the best lyrics from The Beatles for every and any occasion.

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make

The End- Abbey Road, 1969

The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you

Dear Prudence- The White Album, 1968

Love is old, love is new, love is all, love is you

Because- Abbey Road, 1969

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

All You Need Is Love, 1967

Life is very short, and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friend

We Can Work It Out- Rubber Soul, 1965

He say, "I know you, you know me", One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

Come Together- Abbey Road, 1969

Oh please, say to me, You'll let me be your man. And please say to me, You'll let me hold your hand

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- Meet The Beatles!, 1964

It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. They've been going in and out of style, but they're guaranteed to raise a smile

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band-1967

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see

Strawberry Fields Forever- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Can you hear me? When it rains and shine, it's just a state of mind

Rain- Paperback Writer "B" side, 1966

Little darling, it's been long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it' s been here. Here comes the sun, Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright

Here Comes The Sun- Abbey Road, 1969

We danced through the night and we held each other tight, and before too long I fell in love with her. Now, I'll never dance with another when I saw her standing there

Saw Her Standing There- Please Please Me, 1963

I love you, I love you, I love you, that's all I want to say

Michelle- Rubber Soul, 1965

You say you want a revolution. Well you know, we all want to change the world

Revolution- The Beatles, 1968

All the lonely people, where do they all come from. All the lonely people, where do they all belong

Eleanor Rigby- Revolver, 1966

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

With A Little Help From My Friends- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better

Hey Jude, 1968

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday

Yesterday- Help!, 1965

And when the brokenhearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.

Let It Be- Let It Be, 1970

And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

I'll give you all i got to give if you say you'll love me too. i may not have a lot to give but what i got i'll give to you. i don't care too much for money. money can't buy me love.

Can't Buy Me Love- A Hard Day's Night, 1964

All you need is love, love is all you need

All You Need Is Love- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird- The White Album, 1968

Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I love you more

In My Life- Rubber Soul, 1965

While these are my 25 favorites, there are quite literally 1000s that could have been included. The Beatles' body of work is massive and there is something for everyone. If you have been living under a rock and haven't discovered the Fab Four, you have to get musically educated. Stream them on Spotify, find them on iTunes or even buy a CD or record (Yes, those still exist!). I would suggest starting with 1, which is a collection of most of their #1 songs, or the 1968 White Album. Give them chance and you'll never look back.

14 Invisible Activities: Unleash Your Inner Ghost!

Obviously the best superpower..

The best superpower ever? Being invisible of course. Imagine just being able to go from seen to unseen on a dime. Who wouldn't want to have the opportunity to be invisible? Superman and Batman have nothing on being invisible with their superhero abilities. Here are some things that you could do while being invisible, because being invisible can benefit your social life too.

1. "Haunt" your friends.

Follow them into their house and cause a ruckus.

2. Sneak into movie theaters.

Going to the cinema alone is good for your mental health , says science

Considering that the monthly cost of subscribing to a media-streaming service like Netflix is oft...

Free movies...what else to I have to say?

3. Sneak into the pantry and grab a snack without judgment.

Late night snacks all you want? Duh.

4. Reenact "Hollow Man" and play Kevin Bacon.

America's favorite son? And feel what it's like to be in a MTV Movie Award nominated film? Sign me up.

5. Wear a mask and pretend to be a floating head.

Just another way to spook your friends in case you wanted to.

6. Hold objects so they'll "float."

"Oh no! A floating jar of peanut butter."

7. Win every game of hide-and-seek.

Just stand out in the open and you'll win.

8. Eat some food as people will watch it disappear.

Even everyday activities can be funny.

9. Go around pantsing your friends.

Even pranks can be done; not everything can be good.

10. Not have perfect attendance.

You'll say here, but they won't see you...

11. Avoid anyone you don't want to see.

Whether it's an ex or someone you hate, just use your invisibility to slip out of the situation.

12. Avoid responsibilities.

Chores? Invisible. People asking about social life? Invisible. Family being rude? Boom, invisible.

13. Be an expert on ding-dong-ditch.

Never get caught and have the adrenaline rush? I'm down.

14. Brag about being invisible.

Be the envy of the town.

But don't, I repeat, don't go in a locker room. Don't be a pervert with your power. No one likes a Peeping Tom.

Good luck, folks.

19 Lessons I'll Never Forget from Growing Up In a Small Town

There have been many lessons learned..

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

1. The importance of traditions.

Sometimes traditions seem like a silly thing, but the fact of it is that it's part of who you are. You grew up this way and, more than likely, so did your parents. It is something that is part of your family history and that is more important than anything.

2. How to be thankful for family and friends.

No matter how many times they get on your nerves or make you mad, they are the ones who will always be there and you should never take that for granted.

3. How to give back.

When tragedy strikes in a small town, everyone feels obligated to help out because, whether directly or indirectly, it affects you too. It is easy in a bigger city to be able to disconnect from certain problems. But in a small town those problems affect everyone.

4. What the word "community" really means.

Along the same lines as #3, everyone is always ready and willing to lend a helping hand when you need one in a small town and to me that is the true meaning of community. It's working together to build a better atmosphere, being there to raise each other up, build each other up, and pick each other up when someone is in need. A small town community is full of endless support whether it be after a tragedy or at a hometown sports game. Everyone shows up to show their support.

5. That it isn't about the destination, but the journey.

People say this to others all the time, but it takes on a whole new meaning in a small town. It is true that life is about the journey, but when you're from a small town, you know it's about the journey because the journey probably takes longer than you spend at the destination. Everything is so far away that it is totally normal to spend a couple hours in the car on your way to some form of entertainment. And most of the time, you're gonna have as many, if not more, memories and laughs on the journey than at the destination.

6. The consequences of making bad choices.

Word travels fast in a small town, so don't think you're gonna get away with anything. In fact, your parents probably know what you did before you even have a chance to get home and tell them. And forget about being scared of what your teacher, principle, or other authority figure is going to do, you're more afraid of what your parents are gonna do when you get home.

7. To trust people, until you have a reason not to.

Everyone deserves a chance. Most people don't have ill-intentions and you can't live your life guarding against every one else just because a few people in your life have betrayed your trust.

8. To be welcoming and accepting of everyone.

While small towns are not always extremely diverse, they do contain people with a lot of different stories, struggle, and backgrounds. In a small town, it is pretty hard to exclude anyone because of who they are or what they come from because there aren't many people to choose from. A small town teaches you that just because someone isn't the same as you, doesn't mean you can't be great friends.

9. How to be my own, individual person.

In a small town, you learn that it's okay to be who you are and do your own thing. You learn that confidence isn't how beautiful you are or how much money you have, it's who you are on the inside.

10. How to work for what I want.

Nothing comes easy in life. They always say "gardens don't grow overnight" and if you're from a small town you know this both figuratively and literally. You certainly know gardens don't grow overnight because you've worked in a garden or two. But you also know that to get to the place you want to be in life it takes work and effort. It doesn't just happen because you want it to.

11. How to be great at giving directions.

If you're from a small town, you know that you will probably only meet a handful of people in your life who ACTUALLY know where your town is. And forget about the people who accidentally enter into your town because of google maps. You've gotten really good at giving them directions right back to the interstate.

12. How to be humble .

My small town has definitely taught me how to be humble. It isn't always about you, and anyone who grows up in a small town knows that. Everyone gets their moment in the spotlight, and since there's so few of us, we're probably best friends with everyone so we are as excited when they get their moment of fame as we are when we get ours.

13. To be well-rounded.

Going to a small town high school definitely made me well-rounded. There isn't enough kids in the school to fill up all the clubs and sports teams individually so be ready to be a part of them all.

14. How to be great at conflict resolution.

In a small town, good luck holding a grudge. In a bigger city you can just avoid a person you don't like or who you've had problems with. But not in a small town. You better resolve the issue fast because you're bound to see them at least 5 times a week.

15. The beauty of getting outside and exploring.

One of my favorite things about growing up in a rural area was being able to go outside and go exploring and not have to worry about being in danger. There is nothing more exciting then finding a new place somewhere in town or in the woods and just spending time there enjoying the natural beauty around you.

16. To be prepared for anything.

You never know what may happen. If you get a flat tire, you better know how to change it yourself because you never know if you will be able to get ahold of someone else to come fix it. Mechanics might be too busy , or more than likely you won't even have enough cell service to call one.

17. That you don't always have to do it alone.

It's okay to ask for help. One thing I realized when I moved away from my town for college, was how much my town has taught me that I could ask for help is I needed it. I got into a couple situations outside of my town where I couldn't find anyone to help me and found myself thinking, if I was in my town there would be tons of people ready to help me. And even though I couldn't find anyone to help, you better believe I wasn't afraid to ask.

18. How to be creative.

When you're at least an hour away from normal forms of entertainment such as movie theaters and malls, you learn to get real creative in entertaining yourself. Whether it be a night looking at the stars in the bed of a pickup truck or having a movie marathon in a blanket fort at home, you know how to make your own good time.

19. To brush off gossip.

It's all about knowing the person you are and not letting others influence your opinion of yourself. In small towns, there is plenty of gossip. But as long as you know who you really are, it will always blow over.

Grateful Beyond Words: A Letter to My Inspiration

I have never been so thankful to know you..

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

You have taught me that you don't always have to strong. You are allowed to break down as long as you pick yourself back up and keep moving forward. When life had you at your worst moments, you allowed your friends to be there for you and to help you. You let them in and they helped pick you up. Even in your darkest hour you showed so much strength. I know that you don't believe in yourself as much as you should but you are unbelievably strong and capable of anything you set your mind to.

Your passion to make a difference in the world is unbelievable. You put your heart and soul into your endeavors and surpass any personal goal you could have set. Watching you do what you love and watching you make a difference in the lives of others is an incredible experience. The way your face lights up when you finally realize what you have accomplished is breathtaking and I hope that one day I can have just as much passion you have.

SEE MORE: A Letter To My Best Friend On Her Birthday

The love you have for your family is outstanding. Watching you interact with loved ones just makes me smile . You are so comfortable and you are yourself. I see the way you smile when you are around family and I wish I could see you smile like this everyday. You love with all your heart and this quality is something I wished I possessed.

You inspire me to be the best version of myself. I look up to you. I feel that more people should strive to have the strength and passion that you exemplify in everyday life.You may be stubborn at points but when you really need help you let others in, which shows strength in itself. I have never been more proud to know someone and to call someone my role model. You have taught me so many things and I want to thank you. Thank you for inspiring me in life. Thank you for making me want to be a better person.

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life..

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Don't freak out

This is a rule you should continue to follow no matter what you do in life, but is especially helpful in this situation.

Email the professor

Around this time, professors are getting flooded with requests from students wanting to get into full classes. This doesn't mean you shouldn't burden them with your email; it means they are expecting interested students to email them. Send a short, concise message telling them that you are interested in the class and ask if there would be any chance for you to get in.

Attend the first class

Often, the advice professors will give you when they reply to your email is to attend the first class. The first class isn't the most important class in terms of what will be taught. However, attending the first class means you are serious about taking the course and aren't going to give up on it.

Keep attending class

Every student is in the same position as you are. They registered for more classes than they want to take and are "shopping." For the first couple of weeks, you can drop or add classes as you please, which means that classes that were once full will have spaces. If you keep attending class and keep up with assignments, odds are that you will have priority. Professors give preference to people who need the class for a major and then from higher to lower class year (senior to freshman).

Have a backup plan

For two weeks, or until I find out whether I get into my waitlisted class, I will be attending more than the usual number of classes. This is so that if I don't get into my waitlisted class, I won't have a credit shortage and I won't have to fall back in my backup class. Chances are that enough people will drop the class, especially if it is very difficult like computer science, and you will have a chance. In popular classes like art and psychology, odds are you probably won't get in, so prepare for that.

Remember that everything works out at the end

Life is full of surprises. So what if you didn't get into the class you wanted? Your life obviously has something else in store for you. It's your job to make sure you make the best out of what you have.

Top Creators

1. Brittany Morgan, National Writer's Society 2. Radhi, SUNY Stony Brook 3. Kristen Haddox , Penn State University 4. Jennifer Kustanovich , SUNY Stony Brook 5. Clare Regelbrugge , University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

It’s Weird Times to Be a Happy Mother

Some reasons why i’ll rarely admit this in public..

I recently published a book about caregiving that is, in part, a rigorously researched explanation of why I love motherhood, despite living in a country that gives parents so little support. One might imagine that constructing and then promoting my arguments as to why caring for others can be meaningful and emotionally enriching, even when it’s challenging, may have led me to feel comfortable saying I like being a mom in casual social settings. It hasn’t. When I am with friends or acquaintances, or connecting with others online, the admission gets stuck in my throat, where it remains with all the other things that are better left unsaid.

It’s a feeling that traces all the way back to the time when my first son was born. I became a mom in 2012, which I unscientifically suspect was right around the time negative messages about motherhood became more common than positive ones. Or at least it certainly felt like this, in the liberal, largely coastal circles I inhabited online and in real life. To voice any delight about my relationship with my son felt a mix of tone-deaf, out of style, and potentially alienating to others.

Over a decade into motherhood, I now see that there are concentric circles to my hesitation to voice positive feelings, layers of potential relational, political, and personal harm I would fear I would unleash if I came clean. I worry about making others who struggle with motherhood feel bad; I worry about undermining the fight to get mothers and other caregivers more systemic support; I worry about turning back the clock on feminism; and I worry about outing myself as sentimental, and therefore intellectually unserious and uncool. Making it all the harder is that this fear doesn’t feel like a product of my tendency to second-guess things, but rather pretty realistic.

When You Care: The Unexpected Magic of Caring for Others

By Elissa Straus. Simon & Schuster.

Slate receives a commission when you purchase items using the links on this page. Thank you for your support.

The relational piece is the most immediate. When a close friend admits to me that she is struggling with motherhood, the feeling tends to come coated with a heavy dose of physical and emotional exhaustion, shame, maybe even regret. For so long, motherhood was locked up in easy metaphors of goodliness and saintliness. To deviate from this one-note portrayal and refuse to meet unrealistic expectations, to not want to be endlessly giving and enthusiastic about it, was, in this formula, to be a bad person. Ambivalence about either one’s children, or about how motherhood changes the way one can experience the world, was not seen as a healthy part of a huge life undertaking, but a sign that one was not dedicated enough. Even though we have let go of these simplified and unrealistic definitions of a “good mom,” particularly in online discourse, those old-fashioned notions can still get under the skin for those having a hard time. To be in that state, and to hear that I am loving motherhood—a matter of personal disposition as much as it is luck in having children with milder temperaments—might, very understandably, only make things worse.

On a more public level, I fear that me, or anyone, saying I like motherhood, even though it can be tough, has the potential to undermine political efforts to get necessary and overdue support for parents from the government and workplaces. In our current system, moms are suffering because they are moms, which makes managing a job or affording a (not terribly indulgent!) life pretty difficult. For those in the laptop class, they may have scheduling flexibility at work, but that tends to come with an expectation to always be available. Or, for those who work onsite, there is often little flexibility and, too often, very little advance notice of weekly schedules, giving moms a tight 24 hours to figure out caregiving support for the week. We lack universal paid leave, we lack universal and affordable child care and elder care—a one-two punch for all those sandwich-generation parents out there. To say you are having a good time can feel like you are dismissing all the unnecessary suffering that moms experience in the United States because of a lack of societal support. Inversely, to complain about being emotionally spent has become a message of solidarity, a protest chant against everything that makes life so impossible for moms.

Cutting deeper than the threat to pro-mom activism is the threat to feminism. So much of late-20 th -century feminism—though, as I learned when researching my book, mostly white feminism—was about allowing women to have other identities outside of motherhood. To insist on motherhood as a path to meaning, purpose, let alone joy, can feel like I am doing the bidding of conservative forces in our culture, who don’t just advocate for embracing motherhood, but a return to a patriarchal domestic structure in which Dad is on top. What I’d like to do is see what embracing care could look like outside the patriarchy, to look inside the homes women like Betty Friedan encouraged us to escape, and see what is worth appreciating there. With the erosion of reproductive rights and the new popularity of tradwives on social media, pointing out all that is worth celebrating in motherhood can feel dangerous, for people with my politics. And yet, if we don’t do it, what vision of feminism are we promoting for the next generation? Another one in which care is sidelined, marginalized—left to underpaid working-class women, mostly women of color, while wealthier, mostly white women leave the home and do the big, important stuff? I don’t want that either—and yet, still, how to express this?

This disquiet lingers even in solitude, particularly when I am reading smart writing by a smart woman in which motherhood is presented as something that limits or subtracts. It’s not that I have a problem with them feeling that way, or writing about it. I don’t expect anyone to feel the same as I do about this relationship or any of my other relationships, including my relationship with my parents or my husband. The problem isn’t that I feel unseen, so much as I often detect an unspoken assessment that intelligence and motherhood are incompatible. Or, as is the case in many fictional portraits of maternal ambivalence, a feeling that being honest about one’s desires and seeking them out can’t happen in the context of caring for one’s kids. To like motherhood makes me dumb and repressed, I temporarily conclude, cheeks on fire even though nobody is watching.

Because, even when I believe loving motherhood makes me tragically unhip, or when I hesitate to discuss my experience with it with others, my affection for it never wavers. This is the point in the essay when I tell you why. I, like so many women, went into motherhood with a defensive posture. I had no ambivalence about becoming a mom, and am fortunate enough to have a pretty easy time connecting with my children. My big fear was not exactly the act of parenting itself, but how becoming a parent would stop me from living an otherwise interesting and meaningful life.

As it happened, my relationship with my kids has been as philosophically, spiritually, or intellectually vital as anything else I’ve done, leading to the kind of realizations we’ve long wanted to seek elsewhere, away from the home, away from the family. Through them, I’ve cultivated a healthy relationship with uncertainty, with attention, with feeling closer to the source of life, whatever it is, with all its wonder and fragility—all moments of revelation that came by way of a mix of stress, rupture, wholeness, and ease. If I had let motherhood stay small, confined to the sidelines, then those stressful moments would have felt like forces holding me back on my way to an interesting and meaningful life. But by letting motherhood become big, those challenges—and yes, my kids annoy me sometimes, and yes, I appreciate working and other time I spend away from them—became part of a larger narrative arc.

I really do want to be able to say all this in the company of others—and not just in writing but during unscripted, person-to-person exchanges. While I am so glad moms feel liberated to talk about the hard parts of parenting, I worry that only talking about the hard parts make it so the experience of taking care of our children is kept small, devalued, something not worthy of our curiosity, nor our collective investment. I often long for a whole new language, a whole new vocabulary and even context for discussing motherhood, but I haven’t figured it out yet. Whereas once, we diminished motherhood by easy praise, we now often diminish it with easy complaint. Is there a way to think more expansively and holistically in our conversations about motherhood? To be open to the ways in which the good and the bad are not oppositional, but essential, inevitable parts of a rich, friction-filled experience we may not always like but can love and grow from? I’m still working on it.

To the moms all alone on Mother's Day, I see you and you are enough.

Most of my 14 years of motherhood felt like Mother’s Day was spent alone, including some of the years I was married.

Every May, when the second Sunday in May comes around, I think of the women who are where I was in multiple places of my mother journey: scared, alone and envious of the moms with a supportive partner at home.

This year, I've written a letter to every single mother struggling to celebrate herself today, who feels inferior to the other families she sees.

When the flowers don't come, when there are no "thank yous," when there is no one posting our picture, I want us to remember where our gift truly lies.

To our kids, this is the life and this love is enough. So, we can raise our glass.

Dear, single mom on Mother's Day

Maybe you woke up a little early today to give yourself the gift of solitude. There is no one to tag in at the end of the day. It’s exhausting.

You might get a few minutes before feelings of inadequacy come flooding in. You are reminded of all the things you can't do, never seeing all that you have. You wonder how a single-parent home is affecting your kids, who will be down in a matter of moments.

Then, the day will begin just like any other day.

Maybe there were once flowers waiting for you. Maybe there were never flowers at all. You may find crumpled up Mother's Day art in your kids' backpack today, but they may not recognize that there should be anything to celebrate.

You will prepare every meal, answer every request, create every moment, wipe every tear and calm every fear. But your requests will be left unmet, your moments 60 seconds at a time, your tears wiped by your own hand and your fears, ever ponding.

Yet every day you show up and you do it, maybe with a little envy for the two-parent home down the street, because it's hard to be a full-time parent and a full-time provider. You can't possibly do either perfectly well.

If you're feeling discouraged today, seeing only your lack, look inside.

You are the creator of all the good that you see.

Tonight, when you tuck in your kids, witness your gifts.

There may have not been anything on the table this morning, you may have cleaned up the house and cooked every meal, but there is peace in the room. There is joy on their faces. There is a tangible love providing security like the blanket wrapped around their feet.

Your family is not inferior.

You are enough. Your kids know it, and some day someone else will too.

But it has to start with you.

My son was feeling left behind: What kids with autistic siblings want you to know.

Your married friend may be struggling, too

Single mothers should know that married mothers aren't necessarily better supported. Sure, they may have flowers, but just like you, they have learned how to water themselves.

There were Mother's Days when all I felt was hollow. There were flowers, photos, dinners and lots of hugs, but it obscured a darker reality. Presence doesn't equal support. Lonely doesn't equal alone.

Knowing my "enoughness" led me back into singleness and back to the mother I've always been. So, cherish where you are and never trade your peace for support. Recognize yourself and celebrate this day.

Last year, I bought myself a bouquet of wildflowers, and this year, I bought myself a few.

My gift is this home I've created and the peace I feel at night. Sure, it may be a little messy, but it is far from inferior.

When I release my kids into the world, they will take this love that they've been given and begin planting it in places of their own, definitely better than if they had grown up in our broken two-parent home.

Yet I know that you, like me, may have a desire to share your life with someone. Just make sure that they are a seer too, a seer of your worth and your "enoughness," on more than just this special day.

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I dreaded Mother’s Day after my son died. Then I learned to play again

Six years ago, I never thought I’d look forward to another Mother’s Day again. But this year I am.

It’s hard to believe given my memory of Mother’s Day 2018 is still so fresh. It was May 13 — 26 days after my son Tommy went to sleep one night and never woke up. It was also one day before what would have been his 13th birthday. It was the worst Mother’s Day imaginable, and I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

A national holiday that I always cherished suddenly seemed so cruel — ignoring mothers who have lost children , children who have lost mothers , and women who want to be mothers but for some reason can’t. Fortunately, my extended family showed up that morning to help celebrate the fact that I was still a mother with a younger son to care for in this world. Together, we silently nibbled on lunch. Then, like zombies, we shuffled through an art exhibit.

By late afternoon, I found myself sitting among 22,000 strangers in a Los Angeles stadium and watching a professional soccer match. Tommy was supposed to have been there, too.

As grief consumed me on the inside, fans were drinking, singing and cheering on the outside. Music was thumping, smoke bombs were firing and jumbotrons at both ends of the stadium were broadcasting strangers with broad smiles I couldn’t understand.

I felt like an alien who didn’t belong. When the stadium erupted over the home team’s goal, something inside me snapped. Tears raced uncontrollably down my face as my entire being plunged into a thick darkness.

I felt like an alien who didn’t belong.

When the stadium suddenly erupted over the home team’s goal my nerves jumped and something inside me snapped. Tears raced uncontrollably down my face as my entire being plunged into a thick darkness that surrounded me like quicksand.

“So, this is what it feels like to want to die,” I thought to myself as an indescribable loneliness settled in. Stronger waves of grief pummeled me from all sides until I touched a deeper layer of sadness I can only describe as terrifying.

That was the first time I ever truly understood why some people don’t feel loved even when they are, and why it’s so hard to convince someone to live when all they want to do is die.

In that moment, life presented two options: sink or swim.

Sinking meant succumbing to the bitter suffering I tasted that day and passing more of it on to my family and friends. I glanced over at my younger son, sitting to my left, and decided that was not an option.

As I began to swim away from my darkest thoughts and most brutal emotions, I allowed the sport that Tommy loved to provide some much-needed guidance.

“Play,” an inner voice whispered to me.

“Play what?” I silently asked. The idea was so preposterous I thought I was hallucinating. Traditional medicine preferred I try talk therapy and prescription medications for my pain. How could I possibly “play” when my eldest son was gone?

Guilt and shame were adamantly against it. Even though doctors didn’t have a medical explanation for Tommy’s sudden departure, the feeling that I had failed as a mother was overwhelming.

Plus, play wasn’t my expertise. As a busy working mother, “playing” had stopped being a priority in my life. Career, marriage and motherhood had come first. Play was a luxury reserved for certain times of the year when I could squeeze it in — which is ironic because Tommy excelled at play.

In the months that followed, the word “play” streamed into my mind dozens of times until it became clear that the activity that appealed to me the least was the one that would honor my son — and help me heal the most.

“Play is called recreation because it makes us new again, it re-creates us and our world,” writes Stuart Brown, the founder of the National Institute for Play, in his book, “Play.”

So I set out to share Tommy’s infectious spirit of play with others and honor him by transforming a neglected field in a public park into a state-of-the-art athletic field for children to play on. To date, my family and a community I didn’t even know I had have raised over $2.6 million and gifted two “Tommy’s Fields” to Los Angeles, where I live.

On the outside, Tommy’s Fields have been everything I imagined and more. Each has replaced dried up and mostly deserted land and turned them into public spaces where children of all ages and abilities engage in healthy physical activity and multiple outdoor sports. Both have inspired other local communities to unite to improve their own neighborhood parks. And the fields have been meaningful additions to the city of Los Angeles, which suffers from a lack of public athletic fields for both organized sports, and free and unstructured play.

On the inside, watching hundreds of children play on Tommy’s Fields every day has filled me with much-needed meaning and peace. Play has broadened my community and helped me make new friends. Through play I have discovered new talents, like writing, and fostered new interests, like yoga and meditation. Play has taught me that I can lose and miss my son terribly every day and still smile, laugh and make the most of my life the way he did.

Nikki Mark posing with plaque for her son, Tommy.

That is why this Mother’s Day you’ll find me on Tommy’s Field in Westwood, watching 240 children with their families play in a friendly soccer tournament. Not only will I enjoy the benefits of watching others play, but with an ice cream in hand, a live DJ playing tunes in the background and friends and family by my side, I will be playing, too.

Play has been a powerful medicine for me, and all it requires is a willingness to engage in it. Whatever play means to each one of us, it can lift our spirits during our most dire sink-or-swim moments.

In honor of Tommy, and for my own well-being, I strive to prioritize some form of play every day, especially on the hardest ones, like Mother’s Day.

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.

Nikki Mark is the author of “Tommy’s Field: Love, Loss and the Goal of a Lifetime,” available now. She is also the founder and president of the TM23 Foundation , which opened the first Tommy’s Field in 2021 and the second in 2023, with a third in the planning stages. Her weekly articles, alternative healing toolkit and free gifts can be found at Nikkimark.com.

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The Last Thing My Mother Wanted

Healthy at age 74, she decided there was nothing on earth still keeping her here, not even us..

This article was featured in One Great Story , New York ’s reading recommendation newsletter. Sign up here to get it nightly.

Do you know how many grams of Nembutal it takes to put an elephant to sleep?” asks the anesthesiologist from Pegasos, a voluntary-assisted-death organization in Switzerland, after an evaluative look at my mother.

We — my 74-year-old mother, my younger sister, and I — are sitting on a couch in the suite of a charming hotel near the center of Basel. Thin, contained, elegant, with a neat bob of white hair, Mom is at attention. The doctor seems at ease. As he tucks his hat under a red-and-gold Louis XV–style chair, he tells us that many people who avail themselves of Pegasos’s service, which costs more than $10,000, will sell their car or antique books to spend their last few nights at this hotel.

It is September 28, 2022, the day before my mother is scheduled to inject herself with 15 grams of Nembutal — enough to sedate three and a half elephants, the doctor says. She would not need to worry about waking up or being cremated alive. This was a relief to her, Mom says with a smile.

In June, my sister and I had learned, almost by accident, that she was seeking an assisted suicide. I was on the phone with Mom, listening to her complain about an annoying bureaucrat at the New York County Clerk’s Office, when she mentioned it. “I am putting in an application to Pegasos,” she said impassively, “so I was getting some documents for them.” I texted my sister while we were on the phone: “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me about Mom applying to die?” Three little dots. “Wait,” My sister wrote back. “What. What is she doing?”

Mom didn’t have cancer or Lou Gehrig’s disease or any of the illnesses that typically qualify you for assisted death. A cataract in her left eye had deteriorated, and though she had some foot pain and had gotten a pacemaker, all of which weighed on her, she was quite healthy for her age. She had completed a marathon just a few years before at 68.

But her long-term partner had been diagnosed with an incurable glioblastoma in February 2020 and had taken advantage of California’s “death with dignity” laws to die that May. Soon after, Mom left San Francisco, a city she hated for the 20 years she lived there, and moved back to her beloved New York. She bought an apartment near her childhood home on Fifth Avenue; reconnected with old friends; saw plays, art exhibits, and movies; ate good food; and traveled — and did not care about any of it. “Oh, I have nothing interesting to say,” she would say when I called, her voice animated only when she was describing a plan to smite anyone responsible for a grievance by writing a furious email or leaving an angry Yelp review. My mother had always been a flashlight of a person — shining a small but intense beam on things she wanted to explore — but now the radius had shrunk, the light weakened. She used to be curious about my husband’s hobbies, our children, my sister’s career, but those topics, like everything else, were now of only vague interest. She would come down to Virginia to see my family and go up to Connecticut to see my sister’s, but she wouldn’t play with the kids and didn’t seem to enjoy the trips, just expressed relief when they were over. In the last months of her life, the only thing that appeared to give her real joy was the hope that she would be ending it.

In the U.S., ten states allow physician-assisted death, which is available only to residents who are terminally ill with no more than six months to live. In Canada, the laws are more expansive, but citizens still need a diagnosis — if not a terminal condition, then an incurable one with intolerable suffering and an advanced state of decline. In Switzerland, where a foreigner can go to receive aid in dying, there are fewer restrictions on who is eligible. Pegasos is one of the only organizations that will help elderly people who have not been diagnosed with a terminal illness but who are tired of life. Its website notes that “old age is rarely kind” and that “for a person to be in the headspace of considering ending their lives, their quality of life must be qualitatively poor.”

My mother had pinned her hopes on this “tired of life” catchall. She had a three-pronged rationale, she told us over the phone: The world was going to hell, and she did not want to see more; she did not get joy out of the everyday pleasures of life or her relationships; and she did not want to face the degradations of aging.

My sister and I immediately believed she would go through with it. A lifelong libertarian, my mother believed firmly in maintaining her independence. Since she was 21, she had a living will with significant restrictions on when she wanted to be resuscitated. Mom had been brought up with a strict sense of what was appropriate, which was essentially a list of rules on how to avoid imposing on others (thank-you notes had to be sent within a week; navy is the safest color). As she aged, she was desperately afraid of deteriorating and becoming a burden — on taxpayers funding Medicaid, on the medical system, on us.

Our husbands, and our friends who had spent time with her, weren’t so sure about her resolve. Mom had a history of starting projects and then abandoning them. Over the years, her Farsi and Japanese had stayed at a beginner level, her massage-therapy degree went essentially unused, the beginning of her dissertation for an anthropology Ph.D. on upper-class lesbians sat in a stack of neatly filed index cards. And she often made threats she didn’t keep. Once, furious in the middle of an argument, she went to her filing cabinet, got out her will, and crossed out my name in the relevant sections, then initialed and dated every change. The next time she sent us a copy of her will, I was, without comment, back in it.

This uncertainty cast a strange shadow on the long, humid days of that Virginia summer. I wrote down memories, questions in case it was my last chance to ask them. Mostly, I hoped a deadline might compel her to give me the thing I’d been seeking for years: some accounting of who she was as a parent, some sign that she had thought about all the nicks and bangs she had given my sister and me.

In mid-June, my mother begins to gather the required documents: the birth and marriage certificates, the name changes, the medical records. None of her medical records have any documentation of any mental illness, which would prompt a closer review from Pegasos; Mom had refused therapy her entire life, believing it to be for the weak. But it had long been clear to the few people she had kept in her life and the many who had been excised or distanced themselves that something was not right.

When I was in preschool and my parents were still married and living together on the Upper East Side, my mother started an affair with the mother of one of my friends. I found out in kindergarten when my friend and I walked in on them in the bath. Once that secret was out, no secrets would be kept. My mother told me that my friend’s parents liked to have another mutual friend watch them have sex. This was unfathomable to me. I had only ever seen this voyeur — a kind, chubby woman — in slightly scuffed Ferragamos with a silk scarf draped dowdily around her neck. Now I imagined her in a bedroom I knew well, watching my friend’s parents do whatever noisy, naked thing made my parents lock the door at night sometimes.

When I was about 8, my mother started up with a professor of anthropology at Columbia, where she had begun the Ph.D. she wouldn’t finish. He smoked cigars and was fat. Mom was entranced. By his intellect, she said. One Sunday in late fall, my mother, my sister, and I were on our way back to the city from East Hampton when Mom decided to stop to get a poinsettia for the professor. When my father asked why we were late, my sister told him, innocently, that we stopped to buy a plant for “Mommy’s lover.” My father was not an arguer, but his face rearranged itself into fury and humiliation while my mother screeched at my sister, “How could you tell your father that?!” I grabbed my sister, and we hid under the mahogany dining table. My sister was shivering. I sat beside her, silent, a little resentful we were witnessing something that maybe should have stayed between grown-ups.

Some years later, after my parents had started and stopped divorce proceedings, my mother and I took a trip to India to hike for six weeks in Ladakh. It was, she said, a way for us to get to know each other in an environment where, unlike New York or Paris, she wasn’t the expert. To mark my turning 16 and the evolution of our relationship. When we crossed the threshold of the guesthouse in Delhi where the dozen or so travelers would be meeting, she saw a woman with bright-blue eyes and a subtle mullet, grabbed my hand, and said, “Fuck. I didn’t need to fall in love right now.” The trip became about that love — every night my mother would tell me every detail about her conversations with the woman and the growing lust she felt for her.

One night, there was an almost biblical storm and we heard someone outside our tent asking to come in. It was the blue-eyed woman, who would become my mother’s partner of 25 years. Her tent had blown away. We welcomed her into our two-person tent and within an hour, I was huddled on one side, trying desperately not to touch the wet polyester sidewall, singing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” silently with my fingers in my ears so I could muffle the wet sounds of their lovemaking. I knew I wouldn’t get an apology the next morning, but I didn’t expect pure triumph. My mother had now won this woman from her partner, the trip operator, and she was entirely focused on her.

Later, in high school, I was on the phone with a friend while heating something up in the kitchen. I was an absent-minded kid, and my mother had warned me before about the danger of not monitoring the stove. When I saw the flames, I ran to get my father, who was reading in his room. Twenty-three years before, he had lost his first wife and son in a freak house fire. He was 70 years old when our kitchen went ablaze, but I have never seen a human move that quickly. I was paralyzed. Not because of the fire but because I knew how angry my mother would be. When she came home, she didn’t ask my father how he was feeling. She told me to go to my room. I didn’t sleep. I was terrified and wrote a poem about how much I loved her. In the morning, I gave her the poem and she gave me my punishment. I would not be going on spring break with her and my sister, I needed to get a job to help pay for the damage, and I wasn’t allowed to say “I love you” to her for three months. I pushed back, telling her I did love her and had just made a mistake, but hit a wall of silence.

It was decades later, when I was in a healthy marriage with three children of my own, that I started to see how wrong it all was. Back then, I couldn’t let myself feel angry at my mother; it was too dangerous. Any hint of disapproval could be the moment she cut you off, and once out, there was no way back in. When she was 71, without warning, she stopped talking to her only sibling, apparently because an email her sister had sent related to the family business was the final straw in a lifetime of annoyance. The abandonment was total. Despite my aunt’s efforts, my mother never spoke to her again.

I struggle briefly with whether to email Pegasos and tell them the part of the story I knew, but I decide not to. Maybe, I think, it would be best for my mother to end her life. I love her, and in addition to the reasons she articulated, she seems terribly lonely. I don’t want to take from her the choice of a civilized, painless death. And I fear what would happen if she found out I had thrown roadblocks in her way. Even now, she has an enormous amount of power over me. When I was a teenager, my mother, after a fight with my father, forbade me from speaking to my youngest half-sister again. It took me until I was 40 to work up the courage to contact her, and even then, I did so in secret.

In July, Mom sends Pegasos the documents and gets conditional approval. She wires the money for the fee, and it takes far too much time, and many visits to her bank, to clear. “I can’t believe I have to go through this crap to not go through this crap anymore,” she texts.

The days in August are long. Pegasos has said it will get back to her with potential dates, and time drips by as my sister, my mother, and I wait. Her anxiety seems to increase with every day. Always goal-oriented, she is now determined to die. That month, I am visiting my mother-in-law when my mother calls. “I just want to hear back from them,” she says, her stress palpable. “They said it would be two weeks. If they don’t accept me, I am going to kill myself. I’ve been thinking about it.” She has been. She has stockpiled Valium and Ambien, bought over the internet, and has a few Zofrans left over from trips. She is going to rent a hotel room, take the anti-nausea medication and the Ambien, get into a bath, take a few Valium, and slit her arteries with a knife. She wants to do it in a hotel room because she doesn’t want her apartment to be difficult to sell, though, she says, she would prefer to die at home. The image of her tiny body, the curve of her lower stomach and the age spots on her chest, lying in a pool of pinkish water flashes into my brain. I try to shake it. She wouldn’t do that. I can’t imagine she would.

If I’m being honest, I am glad she has a backup plan, even if I hate the specifics. Though the idea of cutting ties with her has crossed my mind, I’ve refrained, more out of a sense of duty to her and my sister than from any joy I get from our relationship. The decades have refused to soften her, and on visits, I’d watch as she snapped at the children and then wondered why they retreated to their rooms to read. In the weeks leading up to those trips, I’d repeat the same thing I used to tell myself on flights with a toddler: You can get through anything in six-minute increments. It would be a struggle, I know, to care for her as she aged. But the anticipation of relief is accompanied by the guilt of knowing that my mother, on a microchimeric level, can sense my ambivalence and is feeling out how strongly my sister and I will fight to persuade her to stay on this earth. After she told us about her application to Pegasos, I called her. “What would make you happy this summer, Mom?” I asked. I suggested a girls’ weekend with her, my sister, and me; she declined. Later, she tells my sister that part of the reason she has decided to kill herself is that my sister does not love her enough. In August, she sends me a final birthday card. On the front, it reads MAY ALL YOUR VENGEFUL WISHES COME TRUE. She has written on the inside, “Dear Pussycat, I think this is the best birthday wish ever. xxoo. Mommy.”

I can see it clearly — the special brand of narcissistic sadism she has perfected. Still, in my bountiful moments, I think perhaps she is consciously attempting a last act of parenting: doing me the favor of severing the connection that has defined much of my life and that I am too scared to break.

On September 2, Pegasos offers my mother a slot on September 29. Time declares war on my sanity. Paucity and abundance. There are too many hours and definitely not enough. I get through every day: cooking, volunteering at school, taking one child to the orthodontist, then the next to a guitar lesson. The rhythms of life become unnatural. In my head is a clock: “Mom may be dead in two weeks and three days. Two weeks and two days.”

I stop sleeping almost entirely. I am pretty certain I am not going to miss her, but she is my mother. Two weeks. I can’t decide if I am more frightened of watching her die or of the week we will spend with her beforehand. What if my last memories are of her being cruel, even inadvertently?

Thirteen days. I’ve been calling her more frequently, panning for any evidence that we could speak truthfully. She tells me every time that she has nothing interesting to say. Once, my call goes to voice-mail and she texts an explanation; she’s getting her legs waxed. Twelve days. She’s having good-bye dinners and lunches. Some participants know, but some don’t.

I call her the Monday before we leave for Switzerland. I note that in two weeks I won’t be able to hear her voice and I am just calling to say “hi.” This seems to be an emotional curiosity for her; I can almost hear her rolling it around in her head. Finally, she advises me, chipper, that I should record her voice. I tell her I love her as we say good-bye and realize that she stopped saying “I love you” sometime in July.

In the meantime, I’ve continued to write down moments I think she would enjoy reliving — mostly from when my sister and I were young, when she was still tender and affectionate with us. Games of tickle monster on the stairs of our apartment, the half-hour every day she would read to us while we lay sprawled on the floor coloring or building houses of cards. Our summers spent as a trio on Long Island — jumping waves, catching crabs in the bay, eating dinner in the backyard before falling asleep in her bed, nut brown and worn out from the sun. On one of my first plane rides, she told me about the 1973 Rome-airport terrorist attacks ten years earlier. “Pussycat,” she said somberly, “if I fall on top of you and you hear gunshots, don’t move, even if I am not answering you.”

The school year begins. As I sit by the pool in the evenings watching my children swim, I debate forcing a conversation about who she was as a mother. Then old reflexes kick in: What if she gets angry and bans me from coming to Switzerland? I couldn’t make my little sister be the sole witness to her death. I start to fantasize that, at the least, we’ll talk in Basel. That she’ll tell us that she remembers how my breath always smelled like apple juice as a child and what joy that gave her, that she loved the weight of our bodies when we sat on her lap, that she is proud of raising women like us and enjoys the squeals of our children and the solicitousness of our husbands mixing her cocktails when she visits. After my sister and I approve of the hotel she wants to stay in in Basel, she writes us an email, telling us “I really appreciate the two of you :-). I am lucky that you are my daughters.” Though I should probably know better, I imagine finding a long note from her in the hotel telling us how much she cares, how even though the decision was the right one for her, it was hard to make.

Monday ends. Then Tuesday. Vicious eczema erupts on my chin. I lie in bed awake every night from midnight until 5 a.m. My husband still isn’t convinced she’ll go through with it. My sister and I contemplate how things will shift if she changes her mind at the last minute. We decide that, for this year, we’d just skip the holidays as a family.

There’s a strike at the Paris airport, and my mother is worried that her flight to Switzerland, which stops at Charles de Gaulle, will be affected. As backup, I buy refundable tickets directly to Zurich from New York. She’s effusively grateful. She tells a friend this purchase is the thing she has most loved about me. On Tuesday, when I call a week before she is scheduled to die, she tells me she is going to clean her apartment and wash her sheets in case my sister and I want to stay there (we don’t) and then pack. In the middle of our conversation, she says, “I just wish it was next week.” Then she remembers that she needs to buy razors in case there is a last-minute hitch with Pegasos. She tells me she plans to send my sister and me away and then kill herself in the hotel bathroom. Even in context, this seems histrionic: She shouldn’t put my sister and me in the position of flying to Switzerland to watch her kill herself and then ask us to leave and walk around Basel knowing she is taking her life in a painful way — and then I feel ungenerous for noting that.

I feel ungenerous often. In her recounting, my mother had a gilded but emotionally difficult early life. An apartment across from the Met in a building her family owned, skiing in Megève, summers in East Hampton. And then parents who left her and her sister in the care of a Swedish nanny to go on a round-the-world cruise when she was only 2 and a half, returning to find their offspring now spoke only Swedish, which neither of them did. A father who cheated on her mother, who returned the favor. A mother who literally thought she was Marie Antoinette reincarnated and then was hospitalized when my mother was 10.

My mother will tell us in Switzerland that, in the hospital, my grandmother was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. Later, one of my half-sisters will mention that when I was a toddler, my mother told her, outraged, that her doctor had suggested my mother, too, had BPD. I had been trying to understand her for years, and the diagnosis finally makes the puzzle pieces fit: The illness is characterized by dichotomous thinking, impulsive actions without regard for the feelings of others, and trouble maintaining stable relationships. Still, there is no way to corroborate it.

Less than one week left. For the first time in my life, real rage. It bubbles up as dreams in which I shake her violently and only sawdust comes out. How can she value my sister and me — and our beautiful, kind, sparkly children — so little as to choose to leave us? And is she really going to go without any kind of reckoning with the person and parent she was, with the damage she has done? It feels horribly cyclical. When my grandmother died, my mother went through her apartment, searching for clues as to her personality, or perhaps some proof that her mother had loved and cherished her, and found a series of locked diaries dating back years. Hours later, she found the keys and was full of anticipation. All the diaries were blank.

My mother-in-law arrives on Friday, two days before I am scheduled to leave for Switzerland, to help my husband take care of our three children. She has been caring and unobtrusive throughout the summer, and seeing how easily she and my husband co-parent, and their affection for each other, is too painful. I avoid them and my kids all weekend. Saturday, my sister goes to New York to accompany my mother to the airport. She has to pee when she arrives, but my mother will not let her into her apartment as she has already cleaned it. She’s anxious about getting to the airport in time, though they end up arriving three and a half hours early.

We haven’t told the kids what is happening, and neither have my sister and her husband. We have a tentative plan to tell them when they are older. My mother would like us to. She feels her choice is ethical and brave — and, I think, wants us to honor that in our recounting.

I am not sure that I live the three days in Switzerland so much as watch them pass through leaded windows. Nothing seems solid. My mother certainly doesn’t. We walk around Basel, a charming city with a river flowing through it, on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday are gray and rainy. We have lunch. We take the train to France. We talk about the music she listened to with her cousin when she was young and pull up a video of “Running Bear” on YouTube. I try to take advantage of the fact that she has her faculties to talk about our life, but I quickly realize there is no point. When I ask why she thinks our relationship has always been tenser than hers with my sister, she tells me, “You just became so nasty and difficult at 8.” She hands us no letters.

The night before she is scheduled to kill herself, we have a sumptuous dinner at the Brasserie au Violon, the site of a former prison; my mother chose the venue as a joke.

The procedure, or the appointment — none of us seem to want to say the word death — has been moved from Thursday morning to the early afternoon. Another lifetime of waiting. By 9 a.m., the clouds have broken, and my mother is already dressed, her hair in curlers. She is sitting on the bed, looking at her computer. My sister and I suggest a walk. My mother declines: “I’m doing emails. Just unsubscribing from Politico.” “Mom!” We splutter. “We can do that! It’s your last day on earth!” Which it is, and so we desist. Around noon, we go down to the hotel bar. My mother orders a whiskey-soda, ice cream, and a glass of Barolo. She enjoys the wine so much that I suggest she could just not go through with it and stay in this exact hotel and drink herself into oblivion for the rest of her life. Like Bartleby, she’d prefer not to.

At one, her internal alarm goes off. We get the check, the hotel gets a cab, and the three of us, together for the last time, get in. The 20-minute ride to an industrial suburb of the city passes in silence; we are all holding hands.

The head of the organization, dressed in an off-white linen top and flowing pants, greets us kindly as the car arrives and leads us into the Pegasos bay in the industrial park. Next to it is a place that appears to repair tire rims and then one that mixes paint. In the waiting room, to the left, large-scale photos of a beach frame a desk; on the right there is a seating area. All the colors are neutral, and there is an abundance of bottled waters and chocolates.

The train is in motion. We hand over our passports; the Swiss police, I think we are told, will need them so they can confirm our identities once we identify the body. My mother is nervous, the way she has been my whole life while traveling. The anesthesiologist is there, typing briskly. The head of the organization tells us there is no rush, but we can start if we are ready. My sister and I look at each other. We’ll never be ready, but when my mother says she is set, we follow her back to the second room. It’s the last time we will be her goslings. The air seems to have turned into corn syrup, and I waddle behind her, weighed down by hundreds of tiny memories, grievances, and love notes. This is it. This is it. My mother climbs into a queen-size hospital bed. The director comes in and my mother reminds him that she has a pacemaker and they should take it out before they cremate her so the crematorium will not explode. He laughs gently and says they will be sure to. “Don’t worry. We know. We already had that happen once.” I can’t tell if he is kidding.

Mom has opted to have an IV and not take the oral medication, as apparently the latter tastes terrible and has a tendency to make people vomit. The anesthesiologist begins a saline drip and asks Mom to experiment with the proprietary switch that will initiate the IV, and she has no problem; the doctor reminds us that we cannot get our fingerprints on the switch or there could be trouble with the Swiss authorities. My mother seems tiny in the big bed. We get the CD she wants us to play as she is dying — a recording of “Ave Maria.” We hand her the photo of her partner that has been on her bedside table for years, and she tucks it under her shirt, next to her heart. She puts some stuffed animals that they cherished as totems around her stomach.

The anesthesiologist puts the Nembutal into the drip and leaves the room. My sister and I climb into the bed, one on either side of her. Mom has the switch in her hand, and as “Ave Maria” starts to swell, my sister and I whisper softly, “I love you. I love you. Go in peace. I love you.” Mom pushes the switch and her breathing starts to slow. Her eyes lose focus, and in less than a minute and a half she is gone. My sister and I sit there for a few moments, petting her head, until it feels somehow untoward to continue. And then one of her eyes jumps. I get the anesthesiologist since Mom was terrified of being cremated alive, and he confirms it is normal for some muscles to twitch after the moment of death. The director tells us we have a little while before the police arrive, and my sister and I take a walk past the industrial noises and into a quiet park with a stream running through it. My sister cries; I want a cigarette. We walk back to Pegasos just as the Swiss police show up. They are quiet and efficient and don’t make eye contact.

When they have finished, my sister and I call an Uber and go back into Basel. In the hotel, we sit together in one of the tasteful, heavy studies to call my aunt to tell her. My aunt, shocked, has trouble breathing but manages to ask, “How could she leave you?” Facing my second motherless Mother’s Day, I still don’t know.

Evelyn Jouvenet is a pseudonym.

If you are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255 for free, anonymous support and resources.

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Home — Essay Samples — Life — Mother — What Is My Mother Essay

What is My Mother Essay

Categories: Mother

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Published: Mar 5, 2024

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How Can I Be Free When My Child Is Incarcerated?

Tiffany and Damiani in prison on Jan. 19, 2023, the day after Tiffany's birthday.

I t began during the COVID-19 pandemic. LA was shut down, and I got a phone call from my mother telling me that my son, Damiani, had done something he shouldn't have. It was Mother’s Day, and my son called me from a burner phone saying he was going to be on the run for a while. Towards the end of 2020, he got caught for a home invasion. Everything was virtual, so I couldn’t go into the courtroom, and he eventually got transferred to a maximum prison, sentenced to 9 years and 9 months.,

That's where my journey began.

I believe in God, I go to church. But as I tried searching for communities that could speak to my specific experience as a mother with an incarcerated child, I couldn’t find anything. I went on YouTube and saw a few shortclips. I typed “moms with incarcerated kids” in my podcast app only to find episodes generally about prisons. Nothing was about the walk of a mother.

I am the kind of person who has a glass of wine with Jesus on the balcony. Next thing I know, I'm hearing, ‘Why don't you start the podcast?’ So, a couple of months later, I did

So I ordered a mic, created a little studio in my apartment, and set up shop. A few months later, I launched my podcast and started just talking about the day in the life of a mother like me—how my family doesn’t understand, how people judge you as mothers, like “Oh, you failed as a mother, you should do better.” I had a lot of anger issues that I took out on my family and friends because I was so mad at my son for what he was doing. I thought it was my fault, and I learned that it wasn't. I shared that it was hard. That never in a million years did I think I was going to be here. I shared that I thought my son was going to get a scholarship to go to college for football, but things shifted. I shared that I still have to get up and go to work, and, with a team of 10 employees, leave my problems at the door. I cry in the car, put my makeup back on, and walk in like nothing's wrong. I try my best to keep it all together.

After I started the podcast, I went to Facebook to see if there were any groups for mothers with incarcerated kids. There were a couple out there, and I joined, but the one thing I didn't like about the other groups is they lacked a positive, good flow of energy. Some of these mothers had children that were doing 20 years to life. One mother told a story about how her son died in prison. I started to get anxious, so I thought, let me create my own Facebook community and set the tone differently than everybody else’s. I created it in July of 2022. I called it “The Impact of Incarceration on Mothers, ”

Read More: The Destructive Lie Behind “Mass Incarceration”

In this group, you can cry, laugh, vent, and, most of all, there’s a sentiment that we're going to get through this. We’re stronger together. We’re at 1,600 women, with 300 new members as of April. And we’re not just in California, we’re all over the U.S. I'm very transparent about my journey, and I have mothers messaging me saying “I’m so happy I found you because nobody understands how I feel.” Trust is why the group is what it is—and why it keeps growing every day. (On a recent morning, for instance, I got another 20 notifications of women joining). This is a safe place for mothers, and we're not pointing fingers.

Mothers share their stories in posts and comments, and sometimes over Zoom calls. We have a mother that has three children in prison, 22 to 30, and she travels to three different states to see them. She lives in Atlanta, and she makes the trip with her husband to California where one of her sons is incarcerated in Long Beach. There's a mother who has to figure out how she’s going to come up with $20,000 for a lawyer, who asks about churches and nonprofit organizations who could help her. There's another woman with a disability who needs to find someone to give her a ride to visit her son. Oftentimes we ask questions: Do I use my money for my child inside or do I cover the cost of school backpacks for my two at home? My son is about to come up on his sentence; what does the parole situation look like? Can you guys help me find a lawyer? And all the mothers jump in.

I shared my own story, too. I put in the group that it was my son’s first time in solitary confinement, and I hadn’t heard from him in two months. One woman told me I could call up the prison and ask for a wellness check, where a counselor would speak to my son and report back. I didn’t know that, but the community that I’m building did, so I was able to hear the basics about how my son was doing. One mother shared that there was a lockdown at her son’s prison in Texas, and so many moms started responding saying ‘wait a minute my son is there too!’ Then another mom shared why there was a lockdown, because she was super in tune with what was going on. So we’re able to share news with each other in real time.

Read More: Confronting Youth Incarceration

When I started the group, the more I kept reading the comments like, “I don't want to get out of bed today,” or “the doctor told me to start walking but I can’t,” I began to think of how I could shift this atmosphere while supporting these moms. So, I proposed a 21 day workout challenge and my notifications started going off with moms saying, “Yes, let's do something.” Next thing I knew women were posting selfies on hikes and moving their bodies. We’re a funny group. We do videos, we cry together, we post pictures of our dogs for National Dog Day, we’ll ask each other about recent dates, or who just got their hair done. We don’t always have to talk about our children being incarcerated.

I'm embracing this time because I feel like it's growing me as a mother. I was young when I had my son, and didn't know what I was doing. I would still do the basic things like pick my son up from school, but I would drop him off at his grandmother's house and go to parties. We were raising each other. I would share things about my life and he’d give me advice. Sometimes I didn't know if I was his mom or his sister.

Damiani is unique. He’s always been different in a crowd, even his teachers would tell me that. He has a smile on him that just lights up the room, and he’s like a spitting image of me. He can gather people together, especially when there's dysfunction going on, and he has a great sense of humor. So in the midst of all of this, my son and I have a dynamic relationship. I told him about the Facebook group and he said he was so proud of me. He laughed and said, "It took me going to prison for you to find your purpose.”

My son’s middle name is Nassir. Since he’s been locked up, every time he calls or I write to him I call him King Nassir, because I can't imagine what it's like being locked up for 23 hours, what it’s like being in that prison. I always tell the mothers when you speak to your child, you have to speak life into them. I just told my son in a letter the other day that I'm proud of him. I know that sounds crazy to say that you're proud of your child being in prison. It's not the prison part. I'm proud of the fact that his mentality is changing.

He’s always had no hair. Now, he has these long dreads. When he gets out, I just want to feel this hair of his. Like, what’s up with these dreads? That’s the first thing I want to do—put my hands through it. He's in Chicago, and the goal is to get him parole in the state of California. So we have to see what that looks like. He’s up for parole in 2025, and one of the moms in the group let me know I need to get in touch with the parole officer four months ahead of time to get him transferred to California. When he comes home, I want to employ him, because they say 50% of people in prison end up going back. So, he’ll join me as co-host on our podcast and we want to do a YouTube channel together. We want to share how he was raised with me, what type of mother I was, and how he got here. We want to be transparent with our story. We’re thinking of having a therapist on the show for both of us, because he’s not the same person and I’m not the same person. And I want to show this to other mothers and children.

I didn’t hear my son’s voice for eight months while he was in solitary, but not once did I drop the mic on my podcast or stop talking to mothers. The mothers in the group are powerful, each with their own set of experiences and emotions. When it comes to society pointing fingers, the first thing they say is, “Oh, they probably grew up in poverty, or there probably wasn't a father in the household.” That’s not the case. Some of these mothers are in two parent households. We have a mother who is a politician, with a daughter who is a prom queen, a son who is an athlete, and another son is in prison. It doesn’t look one way. And you don't have to hide behind it. One lady in the group told her neighbors her son was in the military because she was so embarrassed. But I’m not ashamed.

We're in this boat together. No matter how rough the waters are, we’re still gonna get to the other side of victory. We're learning from each other, and we're literally leaning on each other. We can't do this alone. We're mothers.

The other day, I learned Damiani was finally out of the hole. He sent me a message from his tablet saying the warden let him out early. (He was supposed to be out May 20). I wasn’t going to pay for a flight to Chicago to see my son behind glass, because that felt like too much. But now that he’s out? I’m booking my flight. —As told to Abigail Glasgow

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Three Strategies to Honor Mother Loss

A journey of grief, from storytelling to self-care..

Posted May 9, 2024 | Reviewed by Monica Vilhauer

Understanding Grief
Find counselling to heal from grief
It’s necessary to acknowledge and process grief, especially in the context of maternal relationships.
The loss felt by children whose mothers are alive and unavailable is heartbreaking and often dysregulating.
You can honor mother loss through activities like storytelling, shared activities, and journaling.

“Although we had no money I was rich as I could be In my coat of many colors My momma made for me.” Coat of Many Colors by Dolly Parton

Mother's Day became an official holiday in 1914, created to celebrate mothers in life and in death. When Hallmark used commercialism to promote it, the true meaning of the day was thought to be dishonored. Though the sacredness of Mother’s Day is shrouded by ads, expensive meals, and flowers, I have witnessed as a clinician with my clients, with close friends and family members, and within myself, how this one day elicits a spectrum of emotional responses about the mother figure: Grief , love, longing, and joy are some of those responses.

Adult children might yearn for the mother as a grief response to her death, or they might mourn the relationship they wish to have with her, yet know she is unable or unwilling to give them. The loss felt by children whose mothers are alive and unavailable is heartbreaking and often dysregulating. The feeling has many factors that include an internalized sense of neglect and difficulty attaching to other love objects.

It’s necessary to acknowledge and process grief, especially in the context of maternal relationships. When there are two or three generations of mothers and daughters, celebrating the same holiday, it is difficult to navigate where to place the celebratory emphasis, especially when grief and loss are present.

Learning to integrate the feelings of grief and cope with the loss of the mother is painful, and yet grief is one of the greatest teachers. It is a hero’s journey that changes you forever and helps you understand more about your self. While you are yearning for the grief to lift, or dream for a repair of the relationship, there are strategies to help you calm your nervous system , feel more connected to yourself, and honor the mother you lost. Each strategy listed below is presented in two parts: Grief after Loss (GL) and Grief for the Unavailable Mother. (GUM)

The Three Strategies to Honor Mother Loss

1. Storytelling is a way to honor your mother. Share a funny story about her with friends or family members and ask them to share stories of what they remember about her. (GL)

Think about a woman who inspired you. This could be a mother figure, like an aunt, sister, grandparent, or a non-relative, like an author, teacher or friend. What memory story surrounds the way they influenced you or gave you a loving sense of self? Share that story with friends and family. (GUM)

2. What activities did you share with your mom? Cooking, shopping, exercising or chatting on a call? Engage in one of the activities to let your mind and body know you are recognizing her loss on a day that’s meant to celebrate the mother. She is part of your history and the memories held within your soul. If you have kids, share that same activity with them that you enjoyed with your mom, or create some new rituals. (GM)

Make a date with yourself or with a friend and treat yourself to a day of unconditional love. (Leave the judge or critic at the door.) Perhaps it's a massage, or taking a walk, a bath, or meeting with others for a shared meal. If you have kids, and the relationship is what you want it to be, celebrate your motherhood with them. If you are at odds with them, think about what you want to change or shift. (GUM)

3. Create or buy a Mother’s Day card. Write a note to your mother. True, you will not be able to give this to her; you are giving it to yourself. If this is too painful, don’t do it. If you have a journal or notebook, writing is a great way to tap into emotional release. Pick one or two words to best describe how you feel, put them on paper, and if that’s all you do, it’s enough. You can revisit them whenever you like. Journal writing reduces stress and anxiety and supports creativity . (GL)

Take some time to write to the mother you wish you’d had. What emotions are you feeling? We all have so many emotions we carry within us and it can be difficult to be precise. Here is a list of emotions. Focus on one of the most intense emotions, and have a dialogue with the emotion . Ask it, where does it exist in your body? What emotions would you rather be feeling? (GUM)

If you occupy more than one role as mother, daughter, step mother, or step daughter, Mother's Day can bring up feelings of role confusion. The complexities of navigating these dual roles offer up additional challenges of balancing caregiving responsibilities while also seeking support and guidance from one's own mother. It's essential to recognize your own needs and boundaries .

Grief is a multifaceted experience which is often intensified during significant holidays like Mother's Day. Whether mourning the loss of a mother or grappling with unresolved issues in the mother-daughter dynamic , it's crucial to honor one's emotions and seek support when needed.

Field T. The effects of mother's physical and emotional unavailability on emotion regulation. Monogr Soc Res Child Dev. 1994;59(2-3):208-27. PMID: 7984162.

Edy Nathan, MA, LCSWR, is a therapist and the author of It’s Grief: The Dance of Self-Discovery Through Trauma and Loss.

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Kevin Kling Essay | May 2024

Clip: Season 2024 Episode 35 | 2m 44s | Video has closed captioning.

Kevin Kling shares a Mother’s Day ode.

Aired: 05/10/24

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>> KEVIN: IN MINNESOTA, WE HAVE A DAY CALLED MOTHER’S DAY.

IT’S ALSO KNOWN AS THE FISHING SEASON OPENER.

IF YOU’RE LIKE ME, YOU’RE SITTING IN THE BOAT, HOPING YOU MAILED THE CARD IN TIME AND THINKING YOU’RE GONNA MAKE THOSE FISH PAY FOR WHAT THEY’RE DOING TO YOUR MOM.

IN THE LAPPING WAVES, I CAN HEAR HER REPRIMANDS.

HER REPRIMANDS ALWAYS HAD THE MOST AMAZING SENSE OF OPTIMISM.

"WHAT IF EVERYONE DID THAT?” "YEAH, THAT WOULD BE GREAT."

ANOTHER WAS "KEVIN, THERE IS A TIME AND PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.” OH, I GET IT, SO IT’S NOT THAT I BLEW UP MY SISTER'S BARBIE DOLL WITH AN M80, IT’S MORE THAT I DID IT IN THE DINING ROOM AT NOON.

BUT THE MOST AMAZING THING ABOUT MY MOM WAS HER PURSE, A MYSTERY WRAPPED IN A CONUNDRUM WRAPPED IN NAUGAHYDE.

WHATEVER THE SITUATION CALLED FOR, THE PURSE HELD THE ANSWER.

I REMEMBER ONE YEAR, MY MOM, MY BROTHER AND I WERE HEADED SOUTH TO SPEND CHRISTMAS WITH MY GRANDPARENTS.

ALL OF A SUDDEN, A CLUNKING, TEARING RACKET EMERGED FROM UNDER THE CAR.

WE WHEELED INTO A TRUCK STOP RESTURAUNT AND MY MOM JUST SAT THERE STARING OUT FROM THE NAUGAHYDE BOOTH.

WE WERE GOING TO MISS CHRISTMAS.

I WANTED TO CRY.

SO DID MY BROTHER.

BUT JUST BEFORE THE TEARS STARTED TO FLOW, MY MOM REACHED INTO HER PURSE AND PULLED OUT A DRINKING STRAW WRAPPED IN PAPER.

SHE TORE THE PAPER OFF ONE END AND SLIPPED THE PAPER DOWN THE STRAW UNTIL IT MADE A TINY CONCERTINA AT THE BOTTOM.

THEN SHE REMOVED THE PAPER, PUT THE STRAW IN THE WATER AND SAID, “LOOK, BOYS, THE MAGIC SNAKE.” SHE DROPPED THE WATER ON THE SCRUNCHED PAPER AND IT BEGAN TO MOVE LIKE A SNAKE.

THEN IT STOPPED.

WE SAT THERE STARING AT THE WET PIECE OF PAPER, MY MOM PUT HER HANDS OVER HER EYES AND STARTED SHAKING.

I REACHED OUT TO HUG HER AND SHE TURNED AND SMILED.

I GRABBED TWO WHITE NON-DAIRY CREAMERS, SHOVED ‘EM IN MY EYES AND SANG, “THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW.” MY BROTHER SHOWED HOW LONG HE COULD KEEP A MILK BUBBLE ON THE END OF HIS TONGUE, AND WE CONTINUED OUR TALENT CONTEST UNTIL THE TABLE WAS STREWN WITH GARBAGE AND THE SERVER YELLED, “WHAT IF EVERYONE DID THAT?"

THEN MY BROTHER’S TALENT MILK SHOT OUT OF HIS NOSE.

MOM, LIKE A CANDLE TO THE DARK.

SO, THIS WEEKEND,, THE BOAT MAY HAVE MY BODY.

BUT MY HEART IS WITH MY MOM.

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Essay on My Mother: 150-250 words, 500-1000 words for Students
Essay on My Mother in 150 words; Essay on My Mother in 250-300 words; Essay on My Mother in 500-1000 words; Essay on My Mother in 150 words. My mother is my greatest inspiration and the most important person in my life. She is loving, caring, and selfless. Her guidance and support have shaped me into the person I am today.
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500+ Words Essay on My Mother. My mother is an ordinary woman she is my superhero. In every step of my, she supported and encouraged me. Whether day or night she was always there for me no matter what the condition is. Furthermore, her every work, persistence, devotion, dedication, conduct is an inspiration for me.
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Long Essay on My Mother 500 Words in English. Long Essay on My Mother is usually given to classes 7, 8, 9, and 10. Introduction. The well-known English writer Rudyard Kipling once said 'God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers'. The statement highlights the importance and role of a mother as to not less than that of God.
The Profound Influence of My Mom on My Personal Growth
In conclusion, the influence of my mom on my life is profound and far-reaching. From instilling a strong work ethic and core values to providing unwavering support and nurturing resilience, her impact has been a driving force in my personal growth and development. While attempting to capture the entirety of her influence is a daunting task, the ...
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What my mom means to me goes beyond words — it encompasses the depth of a bond that has shaped my life and left an indelible mark on my heart. From nurturing care to unwavering support, my mom's presence has been a constant source of comfort and guidance. This essay will delve into the profound significance of my mom in my life — her love ...
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In conclusion, my mother's influence has been the cornerstone of my upbringing, and her unwavering dedication continues to shape my path forward. Also Read: Essay On Best Friend: 100 and 300 Words. Short Essay on My Mother . Here is a sample of a short essay on my mother: Also Read: Essay on Indian Freedom Struggle - 100,200,500 Words. FAQs
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4. Leader of my life: my mother by Chelsea Gonzales. "She utilizes her wisdom by teaching me the ways of life. She rejoices as I apply her teachings in my life and she understands me. The abundance of knowledge my mother has supplied me with continuously fills my life with rare and beautiful treasures.".
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The Fifth Paragraph. Your essay's fifth and final paragraph should summarize your main points and provide a conclusion. Here's how to do it: Start by summarizing the key points you've made in your essay. Remind your reader of your focus/theme, thesis statement, and the examples and anecdotes you've shared.
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In conclusion, my mother is the person I admire the most. Her selflessness, strength, love, and guidance have been instrumental in shaping the person I am today. Her influence extends far beyond her role as a mother, making her an inspiration to all who have the privilege of knowing her. I am proud to call her my mother and am forever grateful ...
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In conclusion, my mother's influence has been the most significant in my life. Her teachings, values, and support have shaped me into the person I am today. I am grateful for her love and guidance. 250 Words Essay on My Mother Influenced My Life Introduction. My mother has been the most important person in my life.
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Conclusion. In conclusion, my mother is my hero not only for her selfless love and support but also for her resilience, courage, and unwavering dedication to our family. Through her guidance and example, she has instilled in me the values of compassion, perseverance, and empathy that continue to shape my character and actions.
Descriptive Essay About My Mother
In this blog, we'll provide you with a step-by-step guide on how to write a heartwarming and meaningful descriptive essay about your mother. We'll also provide essay examples to assist you in crafting an enhanced paper, complemented by valuable tips and guidance. Let's get started. On This Page. 1.
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My mother, Mrs Chitrarekha Dinde, is my role model. She inspires and motivates me to grow without any barriers. It seems to me that this woman looks at life as a challenge and wholeheartedly intends to seize the day every day. My mother looked after me and supported me in every part of my life.
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Unyielding Strength. My mother's strength is one of the most influential aspects of her character. She has faced many trials and tribulations in life, yet she never succumbs to despair. Instead, she transforms adversity into stepping stones towards success. Her strength in the face of adversity has taught me the importance of resilience and ...
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Almanac
but the most amazing thing about my mom was her purse, a mystery wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in naugahyde. whatever the situation called for, the purse held the answer. i remember one year, my mom, my brother and i were headed south to spend christmas with my grandparents. all of a sudden, a clunking, tearing racket emerged from under the car.

Essay on My Mother

Essay on My Mother in 150 words

Introduction :

Loving and Nurturing Nature

Sacrifice and Selflessness

Strength and Resilience

Support and Guidance

Life Lessons and Values

Conclusion :

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Essays About Your Mom: Top 5 Examples and 5 Prompts

5 Top Essay Examples

5 Writing Prompts On Essays About Your Mom

​​ 5. Your Mom Doesn’t Hate You, She’s Just Trying to Help You by Carly Newberg

How to Write a 5 Paragraph Essay About My Mother

Introduction

The First Paragraph

The Second Paragraph

The Third Paragraph

The Fourth Paragraph

The Fifth Paragraph

Example essay about my mother

Example 2: A Portrait of Strength and Love: My Mother

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Descriptive Essay About My Mother - A Guide to Writing

Descriptive Essay - What You Need to Know

How to Write a Descriptive Essay About My Mother - 8 Easy Steps

Step 1: Choose a Focus

Step 2: Brainstorm Descriptive Words

Step 3: Create an Outline

Step 4: Start with a Hook

Step 5: Descriptive Details

Step 6: Emotions and Memories

Step 7: Use Metaphors and Similes

Step 8: Show, Don't Tell

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Why This Descriptive Essay Works

Tips to Write a Descriptive Essay About Mother

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