Love story

She had a few tears in her eyes as she stared at me while sitting on the wooden bench. She blinks and smiles. An answer came to her mind about what happened that night before the big day for a high school student. Moving backward, my pocket was empty. Staying awake until late in the evening was my solution. I remember crying and telling her that my art was bad when I was young, and she replied that if you put effort into it and made it on your own, you should be proud. As I stare at a piece of paper, my pencils are guided by my emotions, and my brush is connected to my heart. She is my shade, and I am her shadow. She is strong, but her heart is like silky, smooth petals. Like a "sepal," she enclosed, defended, and protected me as I grew and developed. The stroke reminds me, how she guided my path in my blooming and dooming stages. I know I am her thorn, so I filled my brush with passion colours as I painted on the surface, which reminds me of her unconditional love. The moment I enter the house, she is the first person I am looking for. I share my thoughts with her and tell her my stories. To open the door of a house is just like opening yourself to love. A home is not a home without her voice. I always ask for her advice, and for every decision I make, I always ask for her wisdom. She reminds me to pray and put God first in every journey of my life. I believe in a walking miracle; God sent me wisdom and inspiration through her. She told me: "Never end up judging the person through their actions; everything has deep reasons." Everyone has a distinct personality. Not all negative traits are bad, and not all positive traits are good. She constantly reminds me to look on the bright side of life. She is so strict, but her patience is deep. Everything was so dramatic while I was on the table doing this piece of art until... She pinched me on my right ear with a high-pitched voice. "I TOLD YOU TO SLEEP EARLY!" "You need to wake up early for the school event!" She crumpled everything on my table. The sun is up, the sky clear. At last, high school life is over. And for the record, I’m such an annoying, stubborn teenager, and it was hard for me to finish my high school diploma.

After our high school farewell song, I went to the reserved seating area and handed her my simple, crumpled, hand-painted card. Yes! She is my backbone.