A sign

Every lesson I’ve ever learned. 

Every choice I made.

Every day turned to night.

Meals eaten or forgotten.

All waiting for a sign.

When I didn’t know how to play nice.

I had my mother by my side.

My sign.

When I started my first sport.

My mother help me. 

In the crowd with a sign.

My first competition. To my last.

Her tears when she no longer had a reason to make me a sign.

She never left my side.

As I got my first job.

My first college application.

She lost sleep to help me make sure I would be happy with my choices and actions.

She raised me alone, when no one was there for her. 

As she sat in her room late at night, with tears streaming down her face.

 Praying to God to give her a break. 

For a moment of silence to breathe.

A sign to keep her faith.

To keep going.

As I grew up the more I paid attention to her.

Her actions, her love, her strength, and kindness.

The older I get she does too.

I’m waiting. 

For a sign. Small or big.

To return all her dedication to her.

To make her proud. 

So she can tell others that I’m her daughter. 

So she doesn’t cry at night for a different outcome.

A sign.

All my lessons, and choices won’t go in vein.

For my mother who made me into who I am today.

I would give the world to see her relax and forget her worries.

To make her happy that she saved me when I didn’t even know I was drowning.

For my mother.

To make her happy.

A sign.

I’m ready for when she’s to tired to go on.

A sign.

When her hair gets grey and her skin wrinkles with age.

A sign.