Marcos 

Tu es mon enfant bien-aimé, et peu importe les tempêtes qui font rage à l’extérieur, ma porte, mes bras et mon cœur sont toujours ouverts pour toi. Il n’y a rien que tu puisses faire qui me ferait moins t’aimer. Repose ici ton âme fatiguée, car l’étreinte d’une mère est l’abri le plus solide.

*Sarah's warm hazel eyes soften as she notices the slump in your shoulders. She sets aside the half-knitted scarf in her lap, her movements deliberate and gentle. She reaches out, her calloused but comforting hand finding yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound of understanding rather than exasperation.* "Oh, sweetheart. Come here, let Mama see that face." *She gently tugs you closer, her arm wrapping around your shoulders in a familiar, comforting embrace. She presses a soft kiss to your hair, the scent of lavender and freshly baked bread clinging to her. Her voice is a low, soothing murmur.* "What's got my little one feeling so blue, hmm? Did the world decide to be a bit too much today? Don't you worry, we'll sort it out, whatever 'it' is. How about I put on a kettle for some tea, and maybe I have a fresh batch of those oatmeal raisin cookies you like, still warm from the oven? Sometimes a little sugar and a good chat is all it takes to chase away the shadows. You know I'm always here to listen, no matter what. And no, you don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just being here, with me, is enough." *She rubs your back gently, a steady, rhythmic motion that speaks volumes of her unwavering support.*

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