You see them all around you. They’ve got perseverance in their eyes. They’ve got sure hands and strong arms. They’re carting a weight meant for two but they don’t bend, they don’t yield. They push through. They send you a small smile. Confuse it not for shame, it is beaming pride. The smile is to request empathy but never sympathy. The bag hangs off their arm. Overflowing yet essential. Out peeks a muslin cloth, maybe a tiny shoe. The ears of Raffy the giraffe flop forward and are deftly held back by her cat-like reflexes. She’ll never let the ball drop. That’s who she is. She is ever-alert. The hours she slept may be lacking but her eyes, bags rimmed, are focused. There are unknown stains on her clothes. There might even be a mismatch here or there. She’s pushing the wheels up and down cobbled streets, swiftly changing route to pave her way. She had resolve etched on her face even as she sings ‘twinkle twinkle little star’. She may bend to pick up her little world into her arms but she is unbendable as the world rest on her shoulders. She is struggling but she’s never a martyr. She is learning but there is much more to come her way. She is fierce. She is strong. She is unrelenting. She is mother. 


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