My Mother Who Works

Swish-swash, swish-swash; the sound of my mother hand-scrubbing dishes echoed throughout the kitchen. The stresses of life seemed to no longer phase her as the days passed by, day-after-day, in a seemingly perpetual manner. Her life has been filled with many hassles such as living in France, deaths in family, and even having to resort to working in the “fast food” industry.

Shortly after birth, my mother’s family moved to France for a while, so she grew up there and had a challenge assimilating into society. First off, she did not at first know the language so she struggled with the challenge of fitting into the community. She also had to enroll in the local school, which was rather awkward for her to roam about the wild hallways filled with a copious amount of students, and not able to fit in. It took a while, but eventually she started with simple things such as joining in with merry songs that the children would sing while frolicking through the lush fields where the gentle breeze would discontinue any antagonism. Even though she was unfamiliar with her surroundings and had a challenge fitting in, she endeavored.

While raising my family, my mother went through many trials, some more depressing than others. Shortly after my first birthday, my mother’s mother passed away from cancer. It was enduring for her to carry on raising my family without her, but she worked hard and thought of happier things such as how I greatly resembled her mother significantly. As her life progressed, my mother became more distant from her father as well since he re-married shortly after and his new wife seemed more interested in her own family than his. She may not have shown it, but she still cared