Mothers, the steadfast pillars of our lives, embodying strength and unwavering resilience. How I wish I could grasp the entirety of the world and lay it at your feet. Through my tumultuous teenage years, I clashed with you, harbored resentment for your disapproval of my choices, and grew weary of your persistent reminders. In my twenties, arrogance clouded my vision, believing I knew better and shunning your guidance. It wasn't until my late thirties that the painful truth dawned upon me: you were right all along. Attempting to make amends for lost time only deepened the chasm of disappointment I've caused you. Despite my failures, your love remains steadfast, your forgiveness boundless. Now, in the maturity of life, an ache consumes me, longing to be by your side, to tend to you, to gift you the unreachable stars. But distance separates us, and the ache persists, a constant reminder of the missed moments and the love I yearn to express.