Descriptive Essay About My Mother

It’s the day I have to move to the army's campsite. I grab my bag and swing them on my shoulder, it weighs a ton it feels like my shoulder’s gonna break. Sophie was peeking through my room door, as I was about to stand up she ran to the living room curled up into a ball making loud thud and sobbing noises. Outside of the house, I hug my mom as tight as I could, I don’t want to move any single inch of my bone. I want to stay like this forever. I felt a drop of water behind my shoulder and I know that it was her tears. I don’t want to leave them but I have to. It was time to let go but she didn’t want to, I grab her arm and slightly push them back.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

I was sprawled out on my old bed with a quilt partially wrapped around me. It was cold in the bedroom. I had taken mom’s diary out of my suitcase. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I laid there flipping through the pages.

I thought she would laugh, but she didn’t. We were eating dinner together. My sister and dad were out to a movie. It was quiet, peaceful inside the house. My mother said, “You could be good at that.” When I asked her why she felt that way, she smiled. She said, “I know you’re always telling stories in your head.” She surprised me. I asked her if she thought my sister could be a writer and she said, “Not in the same way.” I wanted her to talk more about who she thought I could be, but my dad and sister came home. My dad was mad that we hadn’t made enough dinner for him, that we hadn’t thought to turn on the porch light, that the pesto had been left on the counter, that he always had to clean up after us.

When she is around it feels like the rough material of a flannel blanket tightly wrapped around you, like a steaming cup of cider on a cool day, like the crunch of leaves on the ground, or how the world smells just after it rains.

I sat on my bed with my arms wrapped tightly around my pillow swaying back and forth. My mom lightly knocked on my door and asked if she could come in. I tried to wipe away the stains left by my long stream of tears, but I felt my skin sting and eyes swell instead. She asked if I wanted to talk about it, but my response got stuck in my throat, so all I could do was shake my head and shove my head deep inside my pillow. Her bare feet smacked on the concrete as she made her way over to my bed. Her weight made an indent in the corner of my mattress as she sat down and laid a hand on my back.

I could not see her for she was wrapped in an old green rag. My heart pounded as I looked at her, tears leaving my eyes quicker than warmth in winter. I quickly went inside and bounded up the stairs to my room. I was shocked to see my bed completely bare, all essence of her gone, light shining through the windows of the bright, sunny day as if my world hadn’t just turned completely upside down. I don’t know how long I sat on the edge of my bed with a blank mind, unmoving. Finally when the skies were a mix of purple and orange, I heard a knock at my door. I honestly don’t remember what my parents said, because I had lost all energy and willingness to

My mother had left my dad’s house slippers by the coat rack behind the door. I was grateful to her as the floor felt like ice. Hanging up my coat, I slipped into my dad’s bathrobe, which was hanging on its peg. We had a fireplace in the living room and the chimney exited the west side of the roof. I smelled the smoke of the dying fire, and I knew my mom was in bed. The bedrooms were located on the second story. Her room was located at the end of the hallway, and my room was at the head of the stairs above the

We drove for what seemed hours to my six year old self. When we arrived in the parking lot of the hospital, which I can never remember the name of, he told us why we were there. Lauren threw a fit, screaming and crying like someone was hurting her. She shouted “I never wanted him”. I believe that is still to this day the biggest lie she has ever told. We walked up to the big glass hospital doors, and straight through them to the elevator. I waited and waited for what seemed forever until the big silver doors opened, and my dad showed us which way to go. We walked past room after room listening to the crying and sometimes laughter. Finally, we got to the right room and we walked in. There sat my mother on a hospital bed. She didn’t seem hurt or in pain, but they said it was happening fast. At one point my mother’s father (Poppy) took us down to the cafe, and all I remember is that hospitals have very good spaghetti. My Poppy got a phone call and all of the sudden we were on the move, going through the halls like there was a fire we were trying to escape from. When we got back to my mother’s hospital room, everyone looked so upset; their faces, eyes and cheeks were red and

It was a nice bright morning as the sun was saying its goodbyes, fall was greeting us with gentle breezes, I was wearing a nice purple dress and my mom had braided my hair, I felt the fear running through me as I held my mom’s hand, she walked me through the doors and down the hall to my classrooms where I was greeted by my teacher with a smile as those few moments flew bye I was very distant very far I would occasionally pinched myself hoping this was all a dream my mom waved goodbye and left my classroom i quickly realized this wasn't a dream and I wouldn't be waking up anytime soon

Getting out of mom’s Ford Ranger, I close the door a bit too heavy handed. When it slams forcefully, I cringe as I move toward the house. I am extra tired tonight after pulling double shift at the Inferno Recycling Center. It’s getting old that I always seem to be the one covering Chelsea’s shifts. This is the third time she has called in sick this week. There being virtually no other jobs in town, I have no choice then to suck it up. I was going to College to become a Special Effects Make-Up Artist. Since momma became sick three months ago, the only option I had was to drop out. There is no one else who can care for her except me. My beloved brother Eli died in a motorcycle accident nine years ago. He was twenty at the time. It was my eighth birthday the

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that

She was seldom outwardly affectionate. She didn’t need to be. When I wrapped my arms around her small frame, afraid I would break her, she responded with a strength disproportionate to her size.

My mother Christy Rehn has many great qualities that make up who she is today. First, to give a physical description; she is a female and is 44 years old about 5’5 . She has short dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. Her eyes are as brown as a bear and are very fast moving. One great quality is that my mom is very funny. She enjoys a good laugh when she's feeling happy or not feeling well at all. She enjoys spending time with her family. Especially, going to the movies as well as sitting out on the beach on a hot sunny day. My mom isn’t just another average person, she shares her many unique qualities that allow others to see who she really is on the inside.