Since I was little, my mother held my hand, guiding me through life’s labyrinth. She taught me what love is—the quiet warmth of her embrace, the lullabies whispered in twilight. Love, she said, is the sun peeking through storm clouds, painting rainbows across our hearts.
But she didn’t stop there. She showed me the other side—the ugliness of war. Her eyes, once soft, hardened as she recounted tales of battles fought, lives lost. War, she said, is the tearing of souls, the shattering of dreams, the echo of distant cannons in sleepless nights.
Yet, even in darkness, she found beauty. “Look,” she’d say, pointing to a wildflower pushing through cracked pavement. “Love blooms here too.” And so, I learned that love is resilient—a fragile petal against the tempest, yet unyielding.
Now, as I stand on the precipice of my own journey, I carry her lessons. Love, both fierce and tender, resides within me. I see it in the kindness of strangers, the laughter shared with friends, the forgiveness that heals wounds. And when the world trembles with discord, I remember my mother’s words: “How beautiful is love!

©️Beatriz Esmer