My diary, today is my mother’s birthday, and I must take a break from writing of today’s events and instead dedicate an entry to my mother.

  I remember her so clearly.

  I remember her eyes that were as vast and dark as the night sky; when the light caught them, they sparkled like thousands of stars.

  I remember how soft and comforting her silken, ivory fur was when she pressed me to it in an embrace. I remember her long and elegant—yet somehow strong--fingers that helped me up when I fell down. I remember her loving smile that was as bright and uplifting as the morning sun. I remember how just seeing mother and knowing she was there made me feel like I was invincible and never alone.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Whenever it was mother’s birthday, she never did anything for herself. I remember one birthday she spent entirely on me—trying to teach me how to fly.

  We stood on a tree branch together and she demonstrated how to fly first. She dove off the branch with perfect form-- looking for all the world like a brilliant swan--and then fluttered into the air looking like what humans called an angel. She encouraged me to jump, but I shook my head in terror. “I’ll die, Mommy!”

  “Oh no, my darling! I would never let you die! Do you know why?” She asked me and fluttered to my side as I nervously cowered.

  I looked up at her as she took me in her arms. “Because the sun would not rise without you. Because the world would be a lonely and miserable place without you.”

  I was always looking up at her. I knew I could never be the woman she was.

  I find myself oftentimes, hugging my knees, and thinking that the sun hadn’t risen for me since she died, and the world was so lonely and miserable without her in it. I was vulnerable now, and I would never be invincible again.