Oh, it was such a year. It gave me a gift of unending tears. Well, the thing was I had got a deadly disease which could never be a subject of pleasure to elaborate upon. It surely was not a spirited welcome song. I was so desperate to roll by and get to better times. I thought I had become blind to finding times fancy and fine. I kept to myself tormented by sickness and ill feels. I was bothered by aches and chills. I thought sometimes who was the devilish conspirator against joys and who had given me a cursed spell in this honest bargain of my life. But my spirits sunken to levels not worth appreciating and very much out of the area which defined the concept of happiness. I cried, I swayed in pain but nothing happened to this unfeeling world. Well, yes, I agree the world has been venomous right from its start and the Pandora box of bad fates and ugly things has long been opened. So it was not difficult to see an innocent human being in pain torn apart by excruciating glooms and wretched desires. You could very well give here the sermon of igniting humanitarian fires. I cried out aloud trying to sleep and go into a long slumber that would wake me up in heaven or unluckily in hell. I wanted to be heard, I yelled and I yelled again but only to deaf ears. This situation gave me silent and strong fears. But then well came my dear mom from some deep distance and how could I forget that beautiful bright face and smile. She took me in her arms and gave me a kiss. The kiss of bliss and recovery of love, support and a shoulder of care. She consoled me and made me smile. To what limit I could thank her, I didn’t know, but I knew that she was my bad times ‘best cure. She gave me my favourite flowers and a token of love, a poem entitled, ‘The brave and beautiful fighter.’ The godsend gorgeous gift worked a miracle because it gave me instant fighter spirit and I felt my dying soul get back to life again. Then came recovery reports of my health which according to medics was a high-end miracle just narrowly steering clear from being a debacle. I wondered what magical, angelic force had saved an ill-destined poor soul and made her get back into a happy whole, thus very perfectly playing the best of roles. God had surely granted someone’s wish and listened to prayers coming deep from the heart. I had again been encouraged to give life a head start. And what force could it be, if not my true worthy companion out of all, my mom? She was the angel who passed me by touching me with the wand of recovery on the bed if gross disease and her love and prayer snatched me from death and brought me back to life. She was the magic Angel a beautiful fairy who could never be too far away to feel when you were in pain and the one who healed you. My mother was the decisive part of my life and I loved her more and more forever saluting and appreciating what she could do. She was the angel and the most prized one in my life’s book.