It was the summer of my thirteenth birthday when I understood that every mother was different. The sun beat down relentlessly, casting a golden glow on the shimmering waves of the ocean. My mother brought me and my brother to a resort; she never told us why. I just thought she planned it for my birthday, but I was wrong.
After settling into our beachfront villa, I noticed my mother's eyes in their usual lifeless state. I went to show her my report card for the semester, hoping to see a glimmer of pride in her eyes. However, she barely glanced at it before turning away, her mind seemingly elsewhere.
I wasn't hurt at all as we grew up with her emotionless demeanor, but I couldn't help but wonder what was troubling her. As the days went by, I noticed her spending long hours staring out into the vast expanse of the ocean, lost in her thoughts.
