My school hosted a yearly family picnic where the students' parents would come inside the school and eat lunch with their children. I was in third grade. The picnic was set on the school's big farm which had been meticulously decorated. The picnic was about to start. All of my friends seemed to have gone with their families and I was left alone on a small bench to the side. I remember I felt a sense of dejection in my gut. My mom had promised that she would arrive and she hadn’t. After 15 minutes had passed, I was moved to the side with the few children who were given school lunches because their parents had not shown up. We were forgotten and abandoned, separated from the children who were having the picnic. I cried with great anguish because I couldn’t understand why my mom didn’t come. She was so sure the day prior that she was going to attend. She had gotten my hopes up.

Eventually, my tears calmed down. I kept looking longingly toward the gate, but she was nowhere to be seen. That did not keep me from looking over one more time. At a distance, I could see the figure of a woman excitedly running towards the gate, with an exaggerated amount of balloons, three big bags of food, and being accompanied by three other women who also seemed excited. I could recognize my mother’s stride and the gleeful laugh that filled my ears. “It’s my mom!” I yelled. I quickly ran in her direction not paying mind to the line of teachers surrounding us who had strictly warned us not to leave the table. I did not care whether a teacher was yelling my name behind me because I was happy she arrived. She faced me and gave me what I felt was the most beautiful and warming smile I had seen. With her extended arms, she bowed ready to give me the most comforting hug anyone had given me.

She noticed the swollen redness on my face and asked what was wrong. I stumbled through my words as my eyes teared up again. I said, “I thought you had forgotten about me.'' She wiped my tears and replied, “I would never forget about you.” At that moment, I felt the genuine love she had for me. I felt there was a compelling reason for my existence. I had never heard words so meaningful that came from the soul, from the heart. Those words felt destined to be said to me. From that moment on, I carried those words reminding myself that I am engulfed by light and full of love, care, and warmth at all times of my life.

Warmth, love, and care. There is no better way to describe my mom because, through my struggle with profound feelings of anger, sadness, and negativity, she has been there for me providing me with the comfort I crave. These words are an ode to the love she makes sure I acknowledge, to the love she demonstrates in the form of rigid discipline so I become a respectful person. My mom makes me understand that I'm privileged to live in a state of opportunity, to pursue my strongest dreams. She embraces my diverse culture so I live in a vibrant scheme of color. And for that, I will always be thankful.

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