A sick woman in bed getting her temperature taken | Source: Pexels
But my mom never blinked, and she didn’t cry. She just said, “Guess I’ll have to work faster.”
At the time, I didn’t understand, not until a few days later when I found her sewing table covered in ivory fabric, lace trim, and a small bag of pearls. She smiled at me then, her cheeks pale, her body frail, but her spirit unshaken.
“I’m making you something no one can ever take away,” she told me, threading her needle with shaky hands.
“Mom… you need to rest,” I said, placing my hand on hers.
“I’ll rest when my girl walks down the aisle.”
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