Helen cradled her newborn daughter, the soft coos echoing like distant lullabies in her heart. As she gazed at the tiny face, she was swept into a tide of memories, a flashback to the days of her own birth.
Her mind wandered to Martha, her mother, a figure carved from the very essence of resilience. Martha had weathered storms of sorrow and joy, her hands worn yet gentle, like the earth that nurtures the most fragile of seeds. Helen recalled the tales whispered in twilight—how her mother had walked barefoot through fields of thorns, each step a sacrifice, each bruise a testament to love.
“Every ache in my body was a note in the symphony of your life,” Martha had once said, her voice a soft melody that wrapped around Helen like a warm shawl. Helen understood now, as she held her daughter close, the weight of those words. Each sleepless night Martha endured was a stitch in the fabric of their bond, woven with threads of golden sacrifice.
With every visit, Martha arrived like the dawn—bright and radiant, bringing warmth to the cold corners of Helen’s heart. She would sit by the cradle, her eyes sparkling like morning dew on fresh petals. “You are the fruit of my labor, a blossom from the roots I planted,” she would say, her hands tracing the air as if weaving a tapestry of memories.
In these moments, Helen felt an overwhelming gratitude swell within her, a river of appreciation that surged forth. “Thank you for the sacrifices, for the love that knows no bounds,” she would whisper, her voice thick with emotion. Each word was a prayer, a golden thread in the lineage of their lives.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Helen envisioned the generations before her—women who had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. They were the mountains, steadfast and unwavering, each peak a story of endurance.
In her daughter’s eyes, she saw the glimmer of Martha’s spirit, a legacy that would flow through them like a sacred river. With every heartbeat, Helen vowed to honor that enduring love, to nurture her child with the same fierce devotion that her mother had shown her.
And as the stars began to twinkle, Helen understood: the cycle of love and sacrifice was unbroken, a beautiful dance that transcended time. In that moment, she knew her heart would always carry the echoes of her mother’s strength, a guiding light for her own journey ahead.
BY ALEM HAILU G/KRISTOS
THE ETHIOPIAN HERALD SUNDAY EDITION 11 MAY 2025
