I also had a mother

   From a calm and serene look he looked at the screen of his computer the most updated information for the elaboration of his résumé.
     Miguel Luís had recently completed his training in higher education, in a course related to telecommunications and research on computerized robotics programs.
He was a determined young man with serious and definite goals, but he was aware of the difficulties that would come his way because of the impact of the global economic crisis on all sectors, especially the younger class seeking the first job. But he also knew that his perseverance would keep him on track to achieve his goals.
      Close by, right there in the kitchen, Miguel's mother was preparing dinner for them, raising her head from time to time to watch the son concentrate on his bustle
  Marta was like that, a mother attentive and worried about the future of the children, not an easily perceived concern, but always eager to see positive results, as the result of a lifetime of struggles, so that nothing could be lacking. This was the only reward she wanted after very early in life, to be left alone with the two children , then. She fought always decisively, how many times on the edge of the limits in two jobs, without intervals even to change of clothes. And now every time she raised the head to see her son on the computer she smiled proudly and felt that all her struggles had not been a waste of effort. And she was happy to keep up with the kitchen with the certainty that her son was determined to pursue his goals.
For his part, Miguel Luis knew how important it was for the mother for his personal fulfillment. He was striving for this goal, not only for himself, but also to give that joy to her. He knew the claw, the dedication, and the capacity for sacrifice she'd always given him and his sister. There were a great empathy between them, and even a certain complicity in the notion that all those years had been difficult, especially for Marta, but that at the end everything would have its reward and he was there to give it to her.
Miguel Luis had learned from his mother that difficulties do not crush people, but rather the opposite, difficulties make people and that the great knots still become stronger when they share or if they are aware of these difficulties.
In fact, Miguel Luis had the notion that it had been only the shoulders of his mother to carry all those heavy burdens among which his education, without the help of somebody else. He knew what his mother had been through and thought that it was time to give her a quieter, longer life so she could do what she liked most, especially now that she was slightly weakened by health problems.
Marta started setting the table. Everything very simple, a clean towel, two plates, two glasses, the respective cutlery and a dish with stewed chicken and another with boiled potatoes besides a substantial and varied salad of vegetables of which Marta never dispensed. Almost immediately Miguel got up from the computer desk and went to get a jug of water that he placed on the table and smiling, he exclaimed:
     - Hmm! It smells very good, Mrs. Marta, do you think I deserve it? I did not even help you today.
     Marta knew her son liked to help her, but she preferred to see Miguel concentrating on his goals.
         "Well, if you like, it's going to be a big help," she says.
         "And how is this resume?" She asks as they sit at the table.
 - I think it is going well, just need to rectify some details and put the number of my certificate, but I have not received the email from the institute with the complete data, so I will have to wait. And how are your back pains?
         Marta did not answer at once, she preferred to smile.
        "Well, these people at the institute must be very busy with other things, except for your certificate.
  Miguel understood the absence of the answer on the part of the mother, because she always refused to talk about her health, but that was not why he often asked her about it. He worried that he would do a lot of research on the Internet about her problem and even helped her change her diets that had very positive results.
 They continued to talk happily until the end of the meal. Together they clear up the table and Miguel immediately picked up the garbage bag and went outside to put it in the garbage container while his mother washed the dishes, even faster than the machine itself:
     "Faster and better," she would smile whenever she talked to anyone.
Marta then went to the bedroom. She had a hobby, which for her was a non-compulsive amusement, as she always liked to admit, but in fact it was much more than that, it was art, that was imperative to write about life, nature, what she learned and what she still is learning and mostly to write about her ancestors, those she proudly and always with a sparkle in her eyes said that they had been the people who prepared her for life. So she spend long hours every night in her world, the world to give herself, without asking for anything more in return than his own peace. She turned on her laptop  with which she always write when is at home. Sometimes outside  she would write in his notebook just as she had learned at school. Shortly after, she heard the sound of the door lock that led to the street.
 She knew it was Miguel, who was leaving. Ever since he got the driving license, Miguel Luis never allowed his mother to go and get her sister back from the work after another day of work. Marta still remembers the smiling face the day he was so happy to show  the document proof of his driving abilities and told her euphorically: "From now on I will no longer allow you to interrupt your leisure nights in order to pick up Susana. And so it was and so it has been. She knew that Miguel also wanted her to rest, and that he would never change his own comfort because of his mother's discomfort. Martha smiled happily, peering through the window at the white cloak that covered the ground of the snow that had not stopped falling all day. She focused on the keyboard of her computer and decided without hesitation to dedicate the title, I ALSO HAD A MOTHER and began to write.

Eduardo Mesquita

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