One of the first words that comes out of our mouths, rooted in love, without boundaries, without schedule, with side effects, maybe even exaggerated, but at its core, it wants superlatives, where all causes are daily sacrifice, hope. , affection make up their calendar, live for their offspring, fight for their well-being, occupy the main task in their route.

Refuge in hard times, most loyal friend, greatest confidant, woman who will not betray, the only one who forgives even if you let the world down, with that deep love that lasts every moment, with that giant half-formed connection that you grow , this irresistible union in her womb for nine months.

When the door closes, maybe for 500 years you open it, but the permanent place is the mother’s chest, a corner of calm, the eternal home of affection, where even at 50 you will always be that pampered, protected child, maybe even spoiled, where advice sprouts like the wind on the roofs, caresses on the forehead, desperate kisses.

These fiery warriors, like golden Amazons, are empowered by women, workers, lawyers, waitresses, engineers and doctors, fiery wives, but nothing is valued more than their main role, their reason to continue, faith in continuation, because they are mothers first and foremost. to end.

This woman that we will never see, let us down, and if she does, we don’t care, we owe her life, the pleasure of existence, she has no conscience, no stubborn resentment, no pretense of absence, sometimes bad memories are part of the experience or endless sacrifices in search of a greater good, the conclusion is very simple, there are no excuses or workarounds to pay attention to them, there is no greater joy and greater happiness than to have this angel under the name of mom.

Source: Juventud Rebelde