Devotion Anonymous

My mother’s hands tell the entire world of my life. They were the first to hold me when I was first born and feed me when I cried. It was her hands that have raised me on behalf of my busy dad, patting me when I behaved well and spanking me when I did something foolish. Her hands have shaped my dreams and aspirations so I could live a more comfortable life, but it has taken me 17 years to realize what an extraordinary influence her hands have had in my world. To reduce the pressure for my dad, my mother decided to earn a working visa and take a job at a butcher shop. As an experienced career woman, she felt disgraced working at a filthy small space, but she never showed me that resentment. All she gave me was a bright smile.

When she came back home, I for the first time heard my mother moan when she was sleeping. Her right hand thumb was bent crooked a full 90 degrees from hours cutting the frozen meat. I had always said to myself that my mother is an invincible woman. No matter what I did wrong, no matter how much I disappointed her, she would always calmly correct me, scold me if needed, and always give me advice that would let me find the right paths for my future. Now, her moans and her crooked thumb proved to me that she...