As children, we probably didn’t realize the sacrifices and efforts our parents made so that we could have a plate of food on the table, a happy childhood, or books to study with. However, as we grow older and remember our childhood, we begin to see all that our mom or dad had to do to get us through difficult times.
Bright Side recognizes all those parents who, with effort and dedication, gave their children happy memories — even if they were focused on fixing other things at the same time. So we want to share the stories that touched us the most.
- When I was a child, my mother cooked a delicious soup that she never made again.
As an adult, I asked her why she never made that delicious soup again, and with tears in her eyes she confessed that she didn’t have anything for us to eat that day, so she gathered the leftovers from everything in the kitchen and that was the result.
A kiss to all the mothers who work miracles for their children.
- We used to live in a small town.
My father left us when I was 3, but fortunately, we were okay.
My mother did everything to help us move forward: she sewed our clothes, washed them, took care of people who were hurt or had some ailment, and we even harvested coffee on our coffee plantation, among other things. She never stopped working, never complained, and never got tired.
I would fall asleep, and she would be sewing clothes on her sewing machine.
I would wake up in the middle of the night to the noise of the sewing machine.
When I got up to do some chores around the house, my mother would still be sewing.
- My parents did everything they could to give us a good life, my mother stayed at home so that my brother and I were never alone or unattended — we were always clean and well-fed.
My dad didn’t take a single vacation day in 20 years, and thanks to that we always had a school uniform and supplies.
He ran to the package, opened it, and with a disappointed face and voice said to my grandmother: “They are all broken.” She, with a sorrowful face, replied: “Yes, I know they broke, I just fell down while carrying them.”
- When I was a little girl, we lived in a very humble little house that my mother called “Ranchita” (little ranch).
The house had no wood or ceramic floors, it was just made of clay.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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