Writer123, 10th - Oakland, CA
My mother always asks me, “dọn phòng của con chưa?” “con tắm chưa?”, “con ăn cơm chưa?” ”con làm bài tập về nhà chưa?”, or “con có đói không?”. Her hands speak to me loud and clear, asking me each question every day.
My hair and nails grow longer by the day and my mother pesters me to cut them, “Con, cắt móng tay”, “con, cắt tóc”. I tell her I’ll cut my nails when we get home, but I lie. I tell her my hair isn’t all that long.
My mother wakes me early in the morning while it is still dark out with a call and tells me, “con thức dậy đi tắm”. Before she leaves the house, she leaves money on my desk every day so that I am able to buy food to eat while at school. I trade stares with the money on my desk as it prepares to feed me. My mother ensures that I eat breakfast and I feel the care in her voice through the phone every day.
My mother makes some of the most beautiful dishes. I come home to the slapping scent of bún riêu or the repetitive aroma of thịt kho. I rush to grab a bowl and gobble down my food. My stomach puts an end to its crying, satisfied after a long day at school.
My mom wants the best for me, though she doesn’t tell me directly. My mother tells me, “con, ráng học giỏi cố lên”, to work hard in school.
I rush to greet my mom as I hear the door slowly creak open after her long day at work, “Hi má!” The scent of cà phê sữa đá lingers on her clothes. Her fingers and back whimper and agonize in pain. I’m always at a loss of what I can do, I try to ease the strain of my mother as guilt overcomes me. The dullness in my mother’s eyes continues to grow as the days go on.
My mother tells me she loves me without telling me she loves me. I greatly appreciate my mother. I love my mother and I am a very lucky son.
Students 6th-12th Grades