She was my ultimate motivation

Every single day I made myself wake up so early in the morning was only because of her.She was my ultimate motivation.Every morning I used to go to the construction site wearing the red wing work boots for plantar fasciitis.Which she bought for me.She always buys me gifts.But I do too.When I can that is.I bought her a pair of the best shoes for standing all day when I heard that she took a new job as a cashier.

But sadly, I wish If Only I Could Touch You.I jolted awake in a pitch-black room, panting in a sweat-drenched T-shirt. I squinted through the darkness to see the time. Still overwhelmed by the after-effects of the recurrent dream, I sunk back to the bed. How could a dream be so vivid? With my ice closed, I tried to remember each and every detail.I plunged into an unexpected dark forest. Baffled, I glanced right and left only to see how dense it was. Suddenly, a strangely familiar chuckle bore into my ears. Unable to figure out where it was coming from, I began to run. I failed to comprehend what fueled my determination, but I just had to find the owner of the voice. It seemed like it was coming from every direction!I was fully conscious of the crunch of gravel under my sprinting feet. The voice seized to sound and I noticed the small puddle. I gazed into it only to see a blonde, seven-year-old boy staring back at me. I was so surprised that for a moment, I forgot about the chase. When I raised my head, I saw the silhouette of a slender woman, dressed in a white gown, wavy blond hair streaming behind.

Though I failed to catch a glimpse of her complete face, the wide-mouthed smile felt oddly familiar. “Come on, Johnny," I heard.Exasperation welled up as I scurried towards her. Instantly, when I thought my fingers would actually touch her, she stepped into the bushes and disappeared. By impulse, I dived in.The light too dazzling for my unprepared eyes, I squinted. The azure blue sky was cloudless. A riot of brightly colored blossoms surrounded my field of vision. A soothing, balmy scent hovered in the cool breeze. The leaves glistened in the soft rays of the sun while the blue and white butterflies fluttered over swaying flowers. I also made sure I had the best shoes standing concrete all day. And finally, the pale-skinned lady was well within my reach. She stretched out her beautiful hands to me and the urge to embrace her proved way too strong. As soon as I thought of looking up at her face, everything shattered apart. The intimidating sound of bicycle bells reeled me back to reality. Peering into the darkness of dawn, I lay, panting. Disheartened. My adoptive parents claimed that my mother had died in a car accident when I was seven. I barely possessed any memories of my birth parents. The frustration of not being able to recall the face of my own mother was suffocating. The dream itself felt far too real to be something my mind made up. So, I wanted to believe that woman was my mother. A desperate part of me refused to think otherwise. Even if it was a delusion. Something my state of denial created. I couldn’t let go. I did remember my mother. At least a part of her. And that, though not enough, would suffice. It had been my lifelong dream to see my mother. Each night I see this dream, I feel an inch closer to her. Some nights I am revealed with only her penetrating blue eyes and some nights I see a faint, crescent-shaped scar on her jaw. I desperately await the day when, by some miracle, I would see her complete face. And, until then, I welcome these nightmares and savor each and every minute of it.