discriptive essay of mothers home town
Answers
Hello
When I was young, I drew a picture of my mother. It was her standing in a yard with a house in the background. It wasn't our house, and my mother looked like anyone but herself. Dressed entirely in green, with green hair and a green expression on her green face, she stood in front of a green two-story house surrounded by a green landscape. Green was her favorite color, and I wanted to make a surprise out of the drawing for her.
My mother was a god to me in those days, and in my eyes she could do no wrong. I think she understood this, and in turn she lavished attention on me like I was a princess in my own little world whose wishes were to be carried out no matter the cost. We were close, too, and not a day went by when I did not divulge some sort of secret knowledge to my mom.
My mother was a game show contestant also, answering countless questions with the infinite patience that only an experienced mom can possess. Her prize for a satisfying answer was a flash of comprehension in my tiny, bright eyes and a hesitant "Oh" as I caught on. It seemed to make my mother just as happy to pass on the age-old knowledge of why the sky is blue as it made me to learn of it. My undying love for her at that age seemed to motivate her to new heights of mom-hood, as she constantly fought battles of her own with my father (who she divorced when I was four), and with her own shortcomings.
I also remember my mother as beautiful. She had dark hair-the kind you run your fingers through just to feel how soft it is-and it always smel...