My Mom Won’t Ever Change

About a week ago, my mom was heading to the store, and I asked if she could pick up a pair of jeans for work. I had just gotten home from a long day and was too tired to go out again—I just wanted to crash into bed.

She said it wouldn’t be a problem. So I wrapped myself in my blanket and fell asleep almost instantly. A few hours later, she came back with several shopping bags—packed with clothes. Not only had she gotten me the jeans I asked for, but she also brought shorts, shirts, socks, and who knows what else.

I looked at the bags and asked, “What’s all this?”
She gave me her usual response, flashing a big grin: “It’s your stuff! I bought it for you!”

I didn’t say much. I just shrugged and said, “Thanks.”

It always goes like this. Whenever I ask my mom for something small, especially when I’m in a rush, she somehow turns it into a mini shopping spree. There really is no love like a mother’s love. It’s incredibly sweet—even if I didn’t need all these new clothes. Still, I appreciate her. She’s the best.