I’m Monica. Mother for my child, child for my mother.
I think that… since I know myself, I’ve loved children. I vividly remember that I was in high school and my mother had a co-worker who had just given birth. When she came to visit us, she also came with the baby. I loved sitting on the couch with baby in my arms. It smelled of warm milk and peace. When I looked at him, time stood still. Until I became a mother myself, I liked being a mother to others. Even if they had their own mother. I liked how they received me in their beautiful world, I liked how they laughed with all their face, I was completely lost in their smile and their clear eyes.
In time, however, I began to encounter cases that made my soul cry. We find out that there are children for whom childhood does not look as I knew. We find out that there are good and smart children, that there are children with unsuspected talents, with passions that would move the mountains and overthrow worlds that have no chance. They don’t have a chance to excel. They don’t have a chance to evolve. They don’t have a chance to see that “I CAN”.