Sometimes the most powerful love isn’t spoken — it’s shown.
I watched a son bend down, wrap his arms around his mother, and lift her as if the years had rolled backward — as if he were the child once again, resting in her embrace. In that instant, time folded on itself: the hands she once held steady were now the hands holding her.
It wasn’t just strength. It was gratitude. It was history. It was love completing its circle.
May we all remember — one of life’s greatest honors is to carry the ones who once carried us.
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