Women like Gold

I sit across from my elderly mother, watching the setting sun cast warm, golden light across her weathered face. She gazes out the window, lost in thought, before turning to me with a slight smile.

Mother: You know, my dear, women are a lot like gold.

I nod, waiting for her to continue. My mother has always had a way with words, often speaking in metaphors and wisdom beyond her years.

Mother: From the moment they are born, women are prized and sought after, just like gold. Men, from the lowliest beggar to the mightiest king, will do whatever it takes to possess them.

I think of the stories I've heard, of empires rising and falling, of civilizations built and destroyed, all in the pursuit of wealth and power. The hunger for control is a tale as old as time itself.

Mother: They'll wage war, spare no expense, fight tooth and nail just to claim a woman as their own. And once they think they've won, that precious prize soon loses its luster.

I nod in understanding. I've seen it happen time and time again, with men and women alike. The constant need to acquire, to possess, to control.

Mother: But women, my dear, are so much more than just a shiny bauble to be won and discarded. They have a strength, a resilience that is truly remarkable.

I think of the women in my life - my mother, grandmothers, aunts, friends - and how they have weathered the storms of existence with a quiet, unbreakable fortitude.

Mother: No matter how much they are beaten down, women have the ability to adapt, to mold themselves to the desires of those who would seek to control them.

A tinge of bitterness creeps into her voice, and I know she is speaking from experience. The injustices that women have faced, the subjugation and oppression, are not lost on her.

Mother: And just like gold, they become more refined, more radiant, when faced with the heat of adversity. They may bend, but they never break.

I feel a surge of pride and admiration for my mother, for all the women who have come before me and paved the way.

Mother: But I do not wish for women to have power over men, my dear. No, I want them to have power over themselves.

She leans forward, her gaze earnest and intense.

Mother: To be beholden to a man's will, to be meek and subservient - that is not true strength. A woman's value lies not in how she is perceived by others, but in the fire that burns within her.

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. In that moment, I understand the depth of her words, the weight of her message. And I vow to carry it with me, to pass it on to the next generation, so that the light of women's power may never be extinguished.

Mother: Remember this, my dear. Women are like gold - precious, resilient, and ever-changing. And just as gold, they deserve to be valued for who they truly are, not for what others wish them to be.

She reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. Her skin is weathered, her grip firm, and I see in her eyes a lifetime of wisdom and experience.

Mother: Let them have power over their own lives, to shape their own destiny. For a woman's true worth is not in her outward appearance, but in the radiant light that shines from within.