The silent scream

Eliza

As I sit here reflecting on the years, I can’t help but remember the warmth of my mom and great-grandmother. They were the pillars of my childhood, and their love shaped who I am today.

When I was five, I recall the comforting smell of my mom’s hair products as she styled my hair. I would sit on the bathroom counter, swinging my legs, listening to her stories about when she was a little girl. She made everything sound magical. I remember one afternoon when she taught me how to braid; her fingers were so nimble, creating patterns that felt like art.

My great-grandmother would visit us often, bringing with her a sense of history. I loved listening to her tales of the past — stories of hardships, love, and resilience. I was only six when she taught me to bake cookies. I can still picture her hands, flour dusted, moving gracefully as she guided me through each step. The kitchen filled with laughter and the sweet aroma of chocolate chips, creating a memory I cherish deeply.

Throughout my childhood, they were my biggest cheerleaders. I remember my mom attending every school play, her face glowing with pride as I stepped onto the stage. My great-grandmother would sit in the front row, her eyes twinkling, ready to clap the loudest.

As I grew older, the memories became deeper. At ten, I recall sitting in the living room, listening to my mom talk about her dreams and aspirations. She encouraged me to chase mine as well. “You can be anything you want to be,” she would say, her voice filled with conviction. I felt invincible.

Then came the summer I turned fifteen. My great-grandmother taught me how to knit, her hands moving slowly yet expertly. I cherished those moments on the porch, where she would share her wisdom while we worked on our projects. It was a quiet bonding time that I never wanted to end.

When I turned eighteen, it struck me how much I had grown, yet I still sought their guidance. I remember sitting with my mom, discussing what to do next—college, dreams, and the unknown future. She filled me with courage, reminding me to trust myself.

By the time I was twenty-one, both my mom and great-grandmother had passed. The void they left was immense. I think back on their laughter, love, and the values they instilled in me. Though they are no longer here physically, their legacy lives on within me. Every time I pursue my dreams, every time I face a challenge, I hear their voices, guiding me.

I miss them dearly, but I am grateful for every moment we shared. They taught me to be strong, and compassionate, and to live life fully. Their memories are treasures I will hold in my heart forever.Eliza

As I sit here reflecting on the years, I can’t help but remember the warmth of my mom and great-grandmother. They were the pillars of my childhood, and their love shaped who I am today.

When I was five, I recall the comforting smell of my mom’s hair products as she styled my hair. I would sit on the bathroom counter, swinging my legs, listening to her stories about when she was a little girl. She made everything sound magical. I remember one afternoon when she taught me how to braid; her fingers were so nimble, creating patterns that felt like art.

My great-grandmother would visit us often, bringing with her a sense of history. I loved listening to her tales of the past — stories of hardships, love, and resilience. I was only six when she taught me to bake cookies. I can still picture her hands, flour dusted, moving gracefully as she guided me through each step. The kitchen filled with laughter and the sweet aroma of chocolate chips, creating a memory I cherish deeply.

Throughout my childhood, they were my biggest cheerleaders. I remember my mom attending every school play, her face glowing with pride as I stepped onto the stage. My great-grandmother would sit in the front row, her eyes twinkling, ready to clap the loudest.

As I grew older, the memories became deeper. At ten, I recall sitting in the living room, listening to my mom talk about her dreams and aspirations. She encouraged me to chase mine as well. “You can be anything you want to be,” she would say, her voice filled with conviction. I felt invincible.

Then came the summer I turned fifteen. My great-grandmother taught me how to knit, her hands moving slowly yet expertly. I cherished those moments on the porch, where she would share her wisdom while we worked on our projects. It was a quiet bonding time that I never wanted to end.

When I turned eighteen, it struck me how much I had grown, yet I still sought their guidance. I remember sitting with my mom, discussing what to do next—college, dreams, and the unknown future. She filled me with courage, reminding me to trust myself.

By the time I was twenty-one, both my mom and great-grandmother had passed. The void they left was immense. I think back on their laughter, love, and the values they instilled in me. Though they are no longer here physically, their legacy lives on within me. Every time I pursue my dreams, every time I face a challenge, I hear their voices, guiding me.

I miss them dearly, but I am grateful for every moment we shared. They taught me to be strong, and compassionate, and to live life fully. Their memories are treasures I will hold in my heart forever.