Chris M
Stories (1/0)
Small World
There was once a young kid, in a small world filled with poverty, a world where nobody could imagine living in, it's a world that shaped me to become the man I am today. The young had no idol and the mother was forced to handle both roles, for the father was blind to see what was going on. I remember times when my stomach itself will growl like the king of the jungle himself, who roared to send fear toward anyone who despised him. The mornings were cold but not the cold of winter but a cold that reminded us of survival. With my clothes filled with holes, I was always seen as poor child and that's because I was. Both of my parents never seeked any higher education and sometimes they've blamed me for their current situations, but as time went by I noticed sometimes they were just angry. My mom especially loved telling me what it meant to live a prospered life, a life that she desires for herself in the future. I would stare into her beautiful black skin that she always takes pride in, and realize the hardwork that she had underwent in order to make sure I survive. Even chores and errands that I had was nothing compared to hers. With my age being only 6, I was powerless and yet I would push myself. To make sure to become the son that'll be able to heal her rusty hands. Rusty hands that truly were hands of mother. This was a hardwork of a mother that cherished her child and to help me prosper because they couldn't. With the thought of that, it made me angry, frustrated, and powerless because my mother, who I dearly love, was in so much pain because of me. I wouldn't get past the reason behind that because my mind was clouded. This world is shaped different, depending on each individual. It can be seen in many different forms, living in a poor village, gave me a gift. Not just any gift, but a gift that we all have. It's a gift to grow and develop. I was never mature enough to understand my mothers hardwork back in Kenya, but without her handwork I wouldn't be sitting here alive writing this to be heard. My story hasn't been fully written, one thing is that all of our stories aren't complete, we're all in this story together and slowly paving a page after page for the life we sought. Before my story folds away, my mother herself will definitely be healed from the pain.
By Chris M3 years ago in Motivation