Written Memoirs!!

My Mother was a Yellow Rose (4th Grade)

My mother was a yellow rose. She was beautiful, a rare delight to see in a world full of

dark times. She had her thorns, her cutting attitude and moments of imperfections, but she was

still beautiful. And like all flowers, the beauty fades, and the flowers wilts. The pedals fall to the

hard ground, and leaves crumble, and it dies much too early. Yes, oh yes, my mother was a

Yellow Rose.

My mother was a kind woman. I remember being at the supermarket buying groceries for

our family. We had a cart full of goodies and food that Mama would turn into incredible dishes

that would make the best chef on Earth sing with praise. Well, there was a young woman in front

of us, counting change to try and pay for her small cart of simple foods. My mother did not

hesitate, she paid for that woman’s cart and would not take no for an answer. Yes, my mother

was a yellow rose.

My mother was the best cheerleader. She sat through every one of the sports games, for

both my brother and me. She coached my soccer team, she danced along for my dance team, and

she sang with my choir. My mother was stood with me through my triumphs and my defeats,

making sure that I kept my head up high even when I felt like the world was crushing my

shoulders. Her strength made me strong. Yes, my mother was a yellow rose.

And just like a yellow rose, she died too young. Sometimes flowers get sick, they do not

get enough light or water. Sometimes the soil is not meant for a flower to grow. And sometimes,

they just wilt up and pass on. My mother got sick, but unlike a yellow rose, her beauty did not

fade. Her pedals may have wilted, and her leaves may have crumbled, but she was beautiful until

the very end. So maybe, just maybe, my mother was not a yellow rose after all.