Hamdam Rehabilitation Charity
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a tree which is called mother

  a tree which is called mother
When we got to Maryam’s house, the bird was on the tree in the alley.The sun was shining in a cold morning in autumn. Her mother opened the door and she climbed down the stairs, we followed her till a room in the basement.
There were damp everywhere and the smell of the unpleasant humidity and the poor light hurt her lungs and her eyes.However, the sparks of girlish taste and elegancedecorates this unfamiliar room; painting and the colorful pattern on the closet caught our attention. Mother sat, we sat down too. Without any words, suddenly she burst into tears. We were silent. Shewipedaway her tears with the corner of her scarf. Perhaps, she remembered the great sadness that filled her heart for years and it didn’t want to leave her alone. She gazed at Maryam and smiled. Maryam with a slight and warm smile made her mother calm and happy. The mother didn’t know how to start and what to say.The father had passed away manyyears ago and now his wife with 7 children was alone. When he was alive, he worked as a street vendor, and somehow he was a breadwinner for his family. Mother was a worker at a hotel and tried to provide the cost of his treatment. Now it is 18 years that the mother is full responsibility for her family after her husband’s death. However, despite some difficulties, her two daughters try to pay the cost of living.
The story of some pains doesn’t know a day, month or a year, because it’s forever.... mother says about many years ago that her son;Reza went to the front and the sound of mortars and tanks are only left for him as if the war is still going on. A short time later when she calmed down, she wants to say about another pain, Mohammad’s epilepsy: “my other son is sick too.He went to the Imam Reza Holy Shrine with our relatives in Ashura  when he was 6 years old. He got lost after the explosion in the holy shrine . When we sent him to school, he always faintedat the school and they brought him home.” Mother hooks her fingers together and presses them hardly. She looks down.
Maryam has sat at the corner of the room, quiet and reserved. She’s listening to her mother’s words and sometimes looks at us. She is spending some good days in a home called “Hamdam” and her mother is happy and satisfied now. She willingly says that Maryam pays more attention to her prayer and she always prays on time. While she’s talking, Maryam’s eyes lighted up with pleasure.Mother says about Maryam’s behavior. Maryam and mother and we laugh.
Mother becomes silent for a moment and thinks. There is a touch of sadness in her voice and she says: "I don’t know who can look after mychildren with this condition, what they will do after me?" We want to calm her down with our words but there is no answer, we just look at each other. She prays for all. It has a good taste; sweet and warm. When we come out of her house, the bird is still on the tree. While coming back to the charity, I close my eyes for some time to remember her mother's face again. A picture of the wind blowing; hard and cold, the branch is bent but she won’t bend. It breaks, butshe doesn’t break. She won’t bend, "life" doesn’t break.
Translated by: Raheleh Shariat 
Date : 3/28/2016 Share This News :    

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