Seeing is Believing This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


   I have seen my mother change from year to year but, inmany ways, she stays the same. As she gets older, my mother seems wiser. It'samazing how much she has gone through, and yet she stays a good, decent humanbeing.

My mother was born and raised in Rhode Island and is an upstandingcitizen, but has told me stories about her childhood that would make anyone'shead spin. I sometimes wonder why she is so nice to people even when they are notnice to her. My mother donates clothes and money to charities and toys tohomeless shelters. I honestly think she would give up our house if she could. Sheis also sensitive to others' feelings and how they are treated. My mother feelsfor people she doesn't even know. I have made a lot of observations over theyears that have led me to believe, without a doubt, that my mother is one of themost genuine people I know.

When I was younger, I had no clue how thisperson would impact my life. I've been taught to be courteous, caring and thebest I can be. The number-one rule in my house is to treat others as you wouldlike to be treated, even though that doesn't always happen. When I was seven, Icame home one day and told my mother about a girl who always fought me overgetting off the school bus first. Of course, I played her game, and retaliated inmy childish ways. My mother said to let her go first and she would stop. Guesswhat happened? The girl stopped, we didn't fight anymore, and we became bestfriends.

My mom loves Thanksgiving and Christmas and is very happy duringthat time of year. You can tell it's Christmas when the smell of spruce permeatesour house. We decorate the tree and harvest candles fill the air with spices thatput everyone in the Christmas mood. My mother invites family to our house forThanksgiving and Christmas dinners. In the days leading up to these events, Ihear, "We have to clean." She puts such pressure on herself to cleanthe house and prepare flawless dinners, but she's done it for years (and willkeep doing it until the cows come home).

My mother supports me in whateverI do. If I'm frustrated with homework, she is there to help (for subjects otherthan math). When I was younger, I used to go crazy over my grades. My mom alwayscomforted me when the tears streamed down my face and said, "Try your bestand keep working hard. Did you learn something?"

"Yes,"I'd exclaim.

"Well, that's good!" she'd say. "As long asyou learn from your mistakes, then it helps you."

I know my momthinks of me during the day since she always tells me, "I've been thinkingof you!" My mother looks out for me and wants to know about my day, but,sometimes, I don't want to tell her. I know she asks because she cares, and ifthere is a problem, she wants to help me fix it, but I don't like it whenshe asks a lot of questions. I feel like she's interrogating me andsmothering me. I fight my mom on this issue a lot.

"Why do youalways want to know about my day?" I'll ask.

"It's just becauseI'm concerned about how you are and how your day went," she'llreply.

"Well, don't ask me all the time, okay?"

"Ionly love you and care about you!" she'll say. By the end, though, we arereally in tune and have some Kodak moments. We know what it means to be eachother's friend.

I love my mom because when I'm sad, she cheers me up. WhenI'm in a nasty mood, she is by my side and willing to make up. My mother jokesaround a lot, is upbeat, and rolls with the punches. She has self-respect andrespect for others, which is a good thing. My mom has definitely made a positivedifference in this world. As the years pass, I'll look back and remember all thetimes we shared, and feel secure with the knowledge that my mother will remainthe same good, courteous and fun-loving person.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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