Here’s a beautiful touching tale of maturing.
[a short story, by Sha’Tara]
Oh, he knew her so well. He remembered how she came and hovered over his crib when he was a tiny baby; how she fretted over him, and kept his rattle or soother at hand. She was his “other” mom, and the older sister he never had.
Over the years she had come to him at different junctures of his life. He remembered the glow of her presence at his first communion and later, his confirmation. She encouraged him, and gently taught him to notice how other people, especially his elders, teachers and parents, lived their lives. Don’t judge them too harshly, she’d whisper, but notice the hypocrisy, always notice that. Don’t confront them, just note and remember. Especially remember.
Then he grew up and…
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