She is a woman shaped by time — her hands worn from years of work, her eyes soft with stories untold. Her back bends slightly now, not just from age, but from the weight of everything she’s carried: children, worries, hopes, and the quiet strength that held a home together.
There is a tiredness in her bones, not just from the passing years, but from decades of putting others first. Her movements are slower now, careful and deliberate, but there’s still grace in them — the kind that comes only from a life of deep love and sacrifice.
Though her body may tire easily, her heart remains vast. She doesn’t speak as much as she used to, but when she does, her words carry the weight of wisdom. She is tired, yes — but not weak. Her weariness is a testament to all she has endured, all she has given, and the quiet power of a mama who has loved her way through every season of life.
