I have walked the earth for a good many years now, and in that time, I have witnessed the tireless scramble for recognition. People crave the spotlight, the mention in passing, the digital footprint that screams, "I was here! I mattered!" They chase the ephemeral whispers of fame and the hollow comfort of broad acquaintance. But as the shadows lengthen and the clock's steady ticking grows louder, I find myself utterly detached from that pursuit.
I do not need existence in the grand, public sense. I do not need to be a name on a marquee, a face in a crowd, or an idol on a pedestal. My essence requires no validation from the masses. The world can spin on its axis without ever knowing the sound of my laughter, the depth of my sorrow, or the details of my quiet life. I am perfectly content to be unseen and unknown by the vast majority.
I certainly do not need to be known by you, or by them—the collective "them" who populate the noise of this world. Your opinion, their recognition, the fleeting moment of acknowledgment are all transient things that will vanish the moment the next trending topic arrives. I refuse to anchor the value of my life to such temporary measures. To pursue universal recognition is to build a foundation on shifting sand; it is a quest that ultimately leaves one exhausted and empty.
There is only one audience whose knowledge of me truly matters, one small circle in which my existence must be indelible: my children.
They are the only ones whose gaze I seek to meet. Not because I want them to idolize me, but because they hold the key to the only form of immortality I desire. My legacy is not written in books or carved in stone; it is whispered in the bedtime stories I told, demonstrated in the lessons I instilled, and reflected in the values I fought to pass on.
When my time on this earth is done, and I become nothing more than a memory, they are my final hope. They will be the ones who carry my name, not as a badge of honor to be paraded, but as a tender, deeply personal memory. They will be the ones who, in their quiet moments, will look up and offer a prayer, a wish, a silent conversation to the parent who loved them fiercely. Their remembrance is not fleeting fame; it is a lifeline of spiritual continuity.
I do not seek to be a historical figure, only a remembered mother. The universe may forget me, but as long as their hearts hold a place for my memory, I will not be truly gone. That singular, profound connection is my ultimate purpose, my peace, and the only recognition I will ever truly need.
After thoroughly reading this and absorbing the words, I decided to delete my comment that really did not apply. But I do want to share this about the children. I just received an email showing a video of children going back to school in Palestine. I should not mention the group's name on this platform, but if anyone wants to contact me, I can give you the information. Donations are needed to refurnish learning supplies. For me, I wish my legacy will be in the helping of others, to promote their lives.
Con tutto il cuore ti auguro di realizzare tutto quello che il tuo cuore e la tua mente desidera