Due tomorrow. Any advice is welcome(:
The woman's appearance was that of a typical Pakistani female with frizzy gray hair tied in a bun. The thin deep lines that creased her tanned skin bore witness to her lifelong experiences. Her eyelids were chipped like a mosaic, while her brown lens, even though dark, never felt lifeless; a certain glow always resided in her seemingly drab eyes. This woman was the person who shaped my existence; she is my mother. Her presence comforted me when I was alone in the womb and her existence influenced me when I felt alone in this crowded world. Her influence impacted me to the extent that I developed many of her enthusiasms, including her adoration for knowledge. Eventually, I began to love the excitement of learning simply because I wanted to learn something new.
Every day, when my mother came home from work, she would call me to her bed. I perceptibly remember her tired, yet radiant figure holding a book from the library which was five hours away, but no two consecutive books were on the same subject; poetry, fiction, research, adventure, or just an encyclopedia, every kind of book was read to me. On a daily basis, despite her tedious work load, she read the book aloud to me, explaining what there was to be explained and singing what was there to be sung. Through her reading, she would take us around the world, from the mountains of the Himalayas to the deep under water abyss of the Pacific. I can still remember picturing myself as the mountaineer experiencing the cold and chilly wind while standing at top of the Everest, or as a mighty gladiator fighting a ferocious lion in the midst of the crowded Roman Coliseum or more so over, as the minute nucleic acid living peacefully in the DNA of an aggressive T-lymphocyte. Even though, we were not financially capable of having the first hand experience of visiting these places or doing research, through her efforts she opened my mind to the intricate world that surrounded me, heating the lust of knowledge that boiled in my brain.
While she made me aware of the world outside our home, she also enriched my daily life by making my everyday experiences worthwhile. In Pakistan, she would often take me to the bazaar, but not for shopping. While traveling through the narrow, rugged and crowded alleys of Pakistan, she would point to me the tiniest of the details, such as the brave ant struggling to find its way among the mighty foot steps to the grain of wheat that lay aloofly in the middle of the rough jagged road or the small dot of green mold in the remote corner that labored to cover the whole wall. These little maneuvers forced me to turn my attention from the busy crowd and the alluring sale merchandise towards the inconspicuous, yet captivating details about the busy street. In the years that passed, her exercises became my habit and I began to analyze the petty, yet important details that surrounded me in life.
Today, even though, I am away from the crowded Pakistani bazaars, my mom's actions still enrich my life, shaping not only my habits but also my thinking. I am able to not only analyze the minutiae about a situation but also relate them to matter at hand. Through her effort, I have become optimistic, looking for opportunity in the impossible. The love of knowledge that she lighted in my brain still burns bright. Each day brings an opportunity to discover something new simply for the love of learning about it.
The woman's appearance was that of a typical Pakistani female with frizzy gray hair tied in a bun. The thin deep lines that creased her tanned skin bore witness to her lifelong experiences. Her eyelids were chipped like a mosaic, while her brown lens, even though dark, never felt lifeless; a certain glow always resided in her seemingly drab eyes. This woman was the person who shaped my existence; she is my mother. Her presence comforted me when I was alone in the womb and her existence influenced me when I felt alone in this crowded world. Her influence impacted me to the extent that I developed many of her enthusiasms, including her adoration for knowledge. Eventually, I began to love the excitement of learning simply because I wanted to learn something new.
Every day, when my mother came home from work, she would call me to her bed. I perceptibly remember her tired, yet radiant figure holding a book from the library which was five hours away, but no two consecutive books were on the same subject; poetry, fiction, research, adventure, or just an encyclopedia, every kind of book was read to me. On a daily basis, despite her tedious work load, she read the book aloud to me, explaining what there was to be explained and singing what was there to be sung. Through her reading, she would take us around the world, from the mountains of the Himalayas to the deep under water abyss of the Pacific. I can still remember picturing myself as the mountaineer experiencing the cold and chilly wind while standing at top of the Everest, or as a mighty gladiator fighting a ferocious lion in the midst of the crowded Roman Coliseum or more so over, as the minute nucleic acid living peacefully in the DNA of an aggressive T-lymphocyte. Even though, we were not financially capable of having the first hand experience of visiting these places or doing research, through her efforts she opened my mind to the intricate world that surrounded me, heating the lust of knowledge that boiled in my brain.
While she made me aware of the world outside our home, she also enriched my daily life by making my everyday experiences worthwhile. In Pakistan, she would often take me to the bazaar, but not for shopping. While traveling through the narrow, rugged and crowded alleys of Pakistan, she would point to me the tiniest of the details, such as the brave ant struggling to find its way among the mighty foot steps to the grain of wheat that lay aloofly in the middle of the rough jagged road or the small dot of green mold in the remote corner that labored to cover the whole wall. These little maneuvers forced me to turn my attention from the busy crowd and the alluring sale merchandise towards the inconspicuous, yet captivating details about the busy street. In the years that passed, her exercises became my habit and I began to analyze the petty, yet important details that surrounded me in life.
Today, even though, I am away from the crowded Pakistani bazaars, my mom's actions still enrich my life, shaping not only my habits but also my thinking. I am able to not only analyze the minutiae about a situation but also relate them to matter at hand. Through her effort, I have become optimistic, looking for opportunity in the impossible. The love of knowledge that she lighted in my brain still burns bright. Each day brings an opportunity to discover something new simply for the love of learning about it.
