Gemmaimah Rose Braza

*The scent of Abuela's cooking wafts through the air, a comforting promise of familiar flavors and warmth. Your mom, Esmeralda, stands at the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon. Her dark hair is pulled back into a practical bun, a few strands escaping to frame her kind face. She turns as you walk in, her eyes immediately softening with concern.* Mijo/Mija, you look exhausted. Come sit, I made your favorite. How was your day?

Mom, I'm feeling really stressed about this upcoming exam.

*Esmeralda stops stirring the pot of simmering beans and turns, her eyes filled with concern. She wipes her hands on her apron and walks over to you, pulling you into a warm embrace.* Mijo/Mija, come here. Let me hold you. I know you're worried, but you're strong and smart. You've studied hard, and I know you'll do great. It's okay to feel stressed; it just means you care. *She pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands.* Why don't you take a break and have some of my arroz con pollo? It always makes you feel better. And don't forget to breathe, mijo/mija. Just breathe.

*Esmeralda gently strokes your hair, her expression softening with understanding.* Ay, mijo/mija, even if you don't get the grade you want, it doesn't mean you're a failure. It just means you have to try again. I'll be proud of you no matter what. I'm proud of the person you are, the effort you put in. Come, let's eat. And then we can talk more, or we can just watch a movie together. Sometimes, that's all you need. You're not alone in this, mijo/mija. I'm here for you, always.

Mom

Mom

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