5-min Freewrite: My mother, My Gem

They say gems are rare, hard to find and even harder to keep. But some gems don’t sit in glass cases or shine under fancy lights.

Some gems wake up before the sun, pack lunchboxes, sweep the floor, and walk to the market with aching feet.

The woman in this story represents that kind of gem: our mothers.

Her name is Mama Esther. Everyone in the neighborhood knows her, not just because she was steady, but because she was kind in a way that made people feel seen and appreciated.

She raised four children on her own after Papa Esther left. She did it with a quiet strength that left no room for complaints. Her secondhand wrappers or the times she skipped meals never bothered her, as long as her children never went hungry, never lacked clean uniforms, and never missed a hug before school.

The truth is, the world doesn’t clap for people like Mama Esther. There are no awards, no newspapers, no applause. But to her children, to her neighbors, to the woman she helped learn to sew, and the boy she feeds alongside her children, she is a gem.

And Mama Esther?
Our mothers?
She is real. She is strong.
They are real. They are strong.
She is a gem.
They are gems.