(no subject)
I remember my mother very vividly. She was a thin, slender woman, who had the most outstanding features. Her long curly hair was always tied back in a ponytail, which I occasionally played with when I was a child. I enjoyed the way her smooth hair felt as i ran it through my tiny fingertips. Mom never complained about me playing with her hair, she just smiled, hugged me, and allowed me to continue in my playful manner. She would look at me with her big, brown eyes, and i just knew she loved me. She had the most beautiful olive skin complexion. Although mom was tiny and seemed quit frail, she has strong arms, and could lift me up with ease when i was younger. She loved picking me up, and running around the house with me in her arms, until finally hurling me through the air, and safely onto my bed. Growing up, we didn't have much money. My father had left when I was a few months old, so my mom had to work a lot. She would come home from work still dressed in her nurses outfit, smelling of talcum powder and latex gloves. Even though she was visibly exhausted, she still had time to cook me a good dinner every night. The spicy smell of salsa and other Mexican spices filled the air in our house each night. We sat down and ate together each night. Mom would not have it any other way. She used to say that dinnertime was our time, and no one else's. So we ate, and then always had time for a helping of sweet, creamy vanilla ice cream after dinner. After the mean, she would pick me up with her strong arms, and whisk me away to bed. Then, she would read me one of my favorite stories in her smooth, comforting voice. After she was finished with the book, she would give me a soft kiss on my forever, and tell me goodnight. Every night, she walked out of my room, stopping only once to switch off the light, and take one last look at me until the next day. My mom's gone now, and all that I have left is the name marked in dark granite, "Maria Alejandra Soto".