Descriptive Essay
Cynthia Morris – Descriptive Essay
There is a quote that says: Mothers are angels who teach their children how to fly. Indeed my mother was an angel who in my younger years I thought was sent here to torture me especially when I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of doing chores or homework. My mother was the pillar of strength, love, and compassion. Mothers may be misunderstood but that doesn’t mean they don’t care or know better. My earliest memories of my mother, was her pretty face, beautiful smile, and small frame. To me she was the most beautiful woman on earth and nothing compared to her. Even though she was unlike the celebrity moms who wore designer clothes and ate in fancy restaurants, my mother was very real. My mother was a very small, petite woman who you did not want to cross. I loved the way she combed her hair. I loved the way she would play with my hair or rub my legs after a track meet even when I smelled like sweat. On the incidents that my siblings and I crossed my mother her big brown eyes would squint with disapproval. But I came to love that about her. When those brown eyes started to squint it meant you had done something wrong. Even though there were seven children my mother never played favorites. But rather, made appoint to be fair and equal with all of her children. Whenever I admitted to making a mistake, Mom would not hesitate to point it out to me, and punish me if needed. At times I detested it but over time I came to realize that Mom did that because she had my best interests at heart. She was never one to hold grudges for long. Like most mothers, my mother was very protective of me that often times I resented her for being so. I did not understand why she had to constantly ask about my whereabouts: Who I was with and where I was going. It never occurred to me that this was an essential part of being a mother. A mother cares and worries for her children. My mother taught me that getting
There is a quote that says: Mothers are angels who teach their children how to fly. Indeed my mother was an angel who in my younger years I thought was sent here to torture me especially when I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of doing chores or homework. My mother was the pillar of strength, love, and compassion. Mothers may be misunderstood but that doesn’t mean they don’t care or know better. My earliest memories of my mother, was her pretty face, beautiful smile, and small frame. To me she was the most beautiful woman on earth and nothing compared to her. Even though she was unlike the celebrity moms who wore designer clothes and ate in fancy restaurants, my mother was very real. My mother was a very small, petite woman who you did not want to cross. I loved the way she combed her hair. I loved the way she would play with my hair or rub my legs after a track meet even when I smelled like sweat. On the incidents that my siblings and I crossed my mother her big brown eyes would squint with disapproval. But I came to love that about her. When those brown eyes started to squint it meant you had done something wrong. Even though there were seven children my mother never played favorites. But rather, made appoint to be fair and equal with all of her children. Whenever I admitted to making a mistake, Mom would not hesitate to point it out to me, and punish me if needed. At times I detested it but over time I came to realize that Mom did that because she had my best interests at heart. She was never one to hold grudges for long. Like most mothers, my mother was very protective of me that often times I resented her for being so. I did not understand why she had to constantly ask about my whereabouts: Who I was with and where I was going. It never occurred to me that this was an essential part of being a mother. A mother cares and worries for her children. My mother taught me that getting