Cut my heart open and all I bleed is Love

Everyone has a guardian angel.
I am not referring to the angels from Heaven but the angels that are the reason why we are here today.
Yes, our mothers, wonderful angels who share our pain and joy.

Every night they tuck us in bed and kiss us goodnight.
Before they leave the room, they make sure that there is nothing hiding in our closet or lurking underneath our beds.
They leave our doors open so that we know that they can come running through the door in times of need.

When we scream in the middle of the night, they come running to us and chase away the monsters that live in our dreams.
They dry our tears and hug us tight, protecting us in their warm embrace.
Our pounding hearts soon sooth as they lay us back in bed while they sit at our side, waiting for our heavy eyelids to finally shut.

In the morning, we smell the familiar smell of pancakes being cooked.
Hastily, we jump out of bed, ready to see the bright faces of our mothers.
On our two feet, we run down in our pyjamas down the stairs and crash into the arms of the angels that kept us safe through the night.
Right there, nothing can ever beat the love that is free and unconditional.

Everyday, they anticipate our return from school.
In the car, our mothers tune into our stories of our school life.
Laughing at the craziness of our behaviour in school, everything seems so heavenly.

As we grow older, we change.
Our attitude, behaviour and maybe even the way we dress.
However, the only thing that never changes is the hearts of our guardian angels.

Sometimes we feel irritated that our mothers never stop pestering us about how we carry out our daily activities.
They nag and nag, reminding us over and over again about how we present ourselves.
Finally, we snap.

We shout at them, slam our room doors and complain over the phone about our mothers to our friends.
Right downstairs, our mothers sit down, crying within, wondering where they have gone wrong.

At dawn, they wish us good morning but we acknowledge them in the most uncaring way.
Grabbing a slice of bread, we head out the door without a word to them, leaving the pancakes to turn cold on our plates.

On rainy nights, we come home crying, with tears streaming down our faces.
Their first instinct kicks in as they run up to us and question our unhappiness.
Without thinking, we throw our arms around them as we cry away.
Instead of questioning further, our mothers wrap their arms around us and hold us tight as we cry.

Placing a cup of hot chocolate in our hands, our mothers sit next to us and ask us if we are comfortable in confiding in them.
As we tell our story to them, our mothers listen without interrupting, giving their full attention.
Our mothers just want to know what is going on, be it good or bad.
They do not want to lose us while we grow up.

At times of giving up, they push us on, giving us all the encouragement we need.
They remind us that we are all different and unique and we should never let everyone step all over us.

Their wings of faith, arms of security and hearts of unconditional love make our mothers remarkable angels that glow brightly in the dark.

No matter how much of a pain we are in the butt, our mothers still love us.
Even if they seem irritating and always seem to be breathing down our necks, they just worry for us.

We mean everything to them and I mean it.

- Jacqueline (I did this back in secondary 4 for english class. We were suppose to write a poem or something like that so I did this for my mum. It was for her and it still is.)