Back with My Mother’s Eyes

I lived by teaching children English.
But when I saw a child hungry, or tired, or brokenhearted—
I didn’t just see a student.
I saw my son.

I bought what they needed.
I gave what I could.
And I prayed.

“Please, if my son is far from me,
let someone give him what he needs.
Let him never be cold.
Let him never be alone.”

I didn’t realize it then,
but in giving like a mother,
I was also becoming one again.

And now,
after all those years—
I’m back.
With my mother’s eyes.

The ones that look not just with sight,
but with memory, with longing,
and with the quiet knowing:
Love always returns.