Descriptive Essay About My Mother

​Parents are one of the most beautiful things that could happen to anyone. They are always there by your side no matter what; they always want the best for their children. They can be strict and protective, its because they love their kids and they don’t want them to get hurt. My parents are special to me because with all the hard time that they had to have me and my siblings in their life they still fought for us and didn’t give up, even after 17 years of trying. But for me? The greatest of all is my mom. She is the one that I look up too. She is the greatest of all. Simple, funny, strict, protective, but yet she is the best.

It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari

It took a long time to value the exceptional influence my mother has been on my life. She is the type of person who has thoughtful discussions about the importance of building a united family. The type of mother who always has time to listen when I need to express my feelings. The type of benevolent individual who loves to help anyone who is in need. Growing up with such a strong role model, I developed many of her convictions and interests. I not only came to enjoy the enthusiasm of learning simply for the profit of knowing something new, but I also came to conceive her notion of contributing with the community in exchange for an excelling sense of life, love, and spirit.

It is January 29th, 1989. Enrique’s mother has spent the money she’s been saving up to get a smuggler to bring her to the United States. The last thing Enrique sees from his mother is her stepping off of the porch and walking away, for she cannot face him. Although, Enrique is confused by this, “‘Dónde está mi mami?’ Enrique cries, over and over. ‘Where is my mom?’” (5). As the years go by, Enrique goes from house to house, turned down by his relatives. He blames his mother for the way his life has turned out. As much as he is hurt by his mother for leaving him, the desperation he needs for her love never ceases to exist. As he cries “over and over” for his mother, she never returns. The abandonment from all the people close to him serves

What is a mother? To me, a mother is someone who exhibits strength and compassion, someone who loves you unconditionally through thick and thin, and someone who is there to pick you up when you fall. My mom is all of that and more, however, she has a more difficult time than most. When my mom was in her mid-thirties she was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s Disease. “Parkinson's disease (PD) is a neurodegenerative disorder that affects predominantly dopamine-producing (“dopaminergic”) neurons in a specific area of the brain called substantia nigra” (What Is Parkinson’s?). Most people when they think of Parkinson’s disease they only think of the tremors that it causes, but there is so much more to it than that. Some of the symptoms of PD are: slowness of movement, rigidity or stiffness, tremors, trouble with balance, depression, cognitive changes, pain, sleep disorders, and so much more (What Is Parkinson’s?). Parkinson’s disease doesn’t just affect the person itself, but it also affects the people around them. Everyday I helplessly watch as my mom goes about her day in pain, I worry about the tomorrows to come, and I struggle to make sense of it all.

The cold air from the air conditioner in the corner of the room made the hair on the back of my neck stand up that alerted me to a drowsy awake. My head was spinning when I opened my eyes. Hospitals always have a musky smell of anesthetics and iodoform. I looked up at my mom and asked her “Are you okay mom?”. Her pale face and raspy voice made me sick. She replied and said, “I’m fine honey, go back to bed.” I managed to put my head down on the cold floor that screamed a cleaning. I fell back asleep acouple of minutes later. “We have to take your vitals Cindy wake up.” The nurses voice sounded concerned and frightened. I woke up and started to get ready so I could go to the first day of first grade. I was wearing a bright orange turtle neck with dark colored jeans with acouple of holes in them. The kids at school were all aware that I couldn’t offord brand names. I knew why my mom was in the hospital no one had to tell me. She always wore a plaid shirt with a button that would unclasp like a tiger trying to get out of its cage. My mom was an alcoholic and spent most of her time drinking her life away. After school, I went back to the cold hospital that I absolutely hated. My mom was getting released and was signing abunch of papers letting her leave. “Mom please stop drinking, you are going to die and not see me go to college.” My grandparents were always at the hospital but they tried to ignore the pain that would shoot through them like a bullet penetrating a target.

Something about my mom just helps me always stay positive. Whether it's the way she lives life to the fullest, the troubles that she has gone through, or the way she bounces back from those troubles. My mom has always kept her positive act on, and I don’t know how she does it. She will always be the person in the room that is the most bubbly and excited about life. She has gone through hard times but though hope has guided her through hard experiences with life.

When one thinks of their mother they think she is the best at everything. The one who cooks the best, loves the most, always giving us kids kisses and hugs when she leave us to school. Mothers are the bravest, strongest, hardworking, and loving human beings on Earth, at least that is how I view my mom. She is always doing something for my siblings and I. Always keeping things organized, moving and doing. When I was 13, I wondered what was in her mind, what is she thinking? She started to look horrible in a condition that seemed rare that I have never witnessed before. All I could do was ask my dad, but he never said anything, I ask her, but she to never said anything. What could a kid do? “There is nothing I can do”, is what I always told myself.

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

At just over five feet tall, she was the kind of woman that you saw on the street and knew to move out of her way. Her demeanor was strict, her hands tied with thick blue veins, criss­crossing over her thin, frail fingers.

I can still remember her contagious laugh, her unforgettable smile, her grace as she entered a room, the way she made the room bright with just her presence in there. I can hear her tell me how much she loves and cares about us, our family. She was the glue, she held us together. The day she left us felt as if I was hit by a wave, it all came in waves. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t break the barrier between water and air. It came in waves, then it all came at once.

The service started and she watched everyone else for the cues of when to stand or sit. No way in hell was she going to try singing the hymns so she plastered a smile on her face and let Andy hold the hymnal. His voice wasn’t half bad, but the song choice was another matter.

A mother is someone who can take the place of all others but no one can take the place of her. There are many different definitions you could use to describe your mother. My mother, Pam Krull, fits every one of those. Today I decided to pick the three that I thought was most important to me. I admire and aspire to be like my mother because of how supportive, how selfless, and how loving she is.

My mother Aida Tekie is without a doubt the most important person in my life. Aida is from Eritrea located in East Africa where she left early on in her life to escape to Canada to raise kids and start a family. She may come by as just a regular mother but she is so much more. Aida isn’t just my mother but she’s my best friend who is always there for me and constantly being the greatest influence in my life. My mother is the type of person who would always strive to help other before herself without thinking twice because that is just simply the selfless person she is. She’s the only person that I know that can either be the best listener or can give me much needed advice. I couldn’t have made it this far in life without my mother standing

I interviewed my mother Jane Million. My brother has Asperger’s. He is ten years old, and in fifth grade. He is Caucasian, and my mother’s household is considered under the poverty line. He is diagnosed with Asperger’s. He I very good with mechanical skills. He can build many things, and loves almost any type of puzzle. Unfortunately he is not very good with reading or writing. He has two siblings at home. His favorite color is red. His favorite hobby is watching TV, coloring, and building things out of Legos.