Top 10 Most Beautiful and Meaningful Essays About Mothers That Will Touch the Hearts of Readers

Author: Pham Thi Thu Ha - 6th grade student

For the topic: "Describe a family member," Pham Thi Thu Ha, a 6th grader, wrote a beautiful and vivid essay about her mother. Although she was only introduced to descriptive writing in 5th grade, her work shows that not only is she a talented writer, but also a sensitive and emotional young girl. Her essay about her mother captivates readers from the very first lines, using a striking indirect opening with verses from a poem by poet Tran Quoc Minh. The essay then proceeds to describe her mother in a clear and detailed manner, from her physical appearance to her personality and daily activities.

If Pham Thi Thu Ha did not love her mother deeply, pay attention to her, and observe her daily tasks, she could not have written such a heartfelt and relatable description. Despite the challenges of life, the mother in this essay is not portrayed as delicate or graceful, but as a simple and hardworking woman—her beauty shines through in her labor. The author cleverly uses comparative imagery to highlight her mother’s strength and gentleness. The mother is a hardworking woman who cares for her family, loved by everyone and a source of pride for the author. She motivates the author to study well and become a good child, a good student, and a good citizen.

“The stars out there, awake at night
Can’t compare to mother who stays up for us.
Tonight, I sleep soundly
Mother is the wind that carries me forever.”

Every time I hear these lines from Tran Quoc Minh's poem, I think of my beloved mother. I feel so sorry for those who don't have a mother because she is the one who devotes all her love and care to us. And my mother is just like that.

My mother is almost forty years old, but everyone says she looks older than her age, perhaps because of the burdens of life. Her job is simple—working on the farm. Her interests are different from most people; she loves working. My mother is tall and slender, with dark skin tanned from working under the sun. Her long hair, now sunburned from the fields, is tied up when she works, revealing a few curls that add charm to her. With this hairstyle, she has a heart-shaped face, a broad forehead that occasionally furrows in thought. The passage of time has left small wrinkles on her face, but it has not faded the gentle and kind expression in her eyes. Her dark eyes reflect kindness and warmth. As they say, “The eyes are the windows to the soul,” and it’s true—looking into my mother’s eyes, I can understand her thoughts. When I do something good, her eyes light up with happiness, but they also become teary when I make mistakes. Her eyes make me feel guilty for causing her pain. Her long eyelashes and thick eyebrows complement her high nose and small mouth, with a smile revealing her white, even teeth.

“Our hands can make miracles
With the power of labor, even stones turn to rice.”

Indeed! It’s thanks to my mother’s hardworking hands that I have grown up to this point. Her hands are rough, cracked, and scarred from years of hard work. Those hands have nurtured me to where I am today. Her feet are also cracked, and when it gets cold, they hurt, making her soak them in saltwater to relieve the pain. Her bony shoulders have borne the weight of many hardships. Seeing all this, I feel so much love for my mother. Watching her care for the crops and the garden, I realize how much she loves nature. My mother is indispensable in our family. Every day, she is like a diligent worker, managing all the household chores like cooking, washing, and cleaning, always efficient and organized. No matter how messy the house gets, it becomes neat and tidy once my mother’s caring hands touch it. Despite her busy life, she never complains, always working hard for the family.

My mother is someone who gives all her love and care to me. Whenever I make a mistake, she doesn’t scold me but teaches me what’s right, helping me remember those lessons. Even though she’s always busy, she still takes time to check on my studies. When I’m sick, she is the warm, protective hand that helps me get through it. Everyone in the village admires her for her kindness, openness, and dedication at work. When it’s time for harvesting or other chores, everyone calls on her for help.

This is how my dear mother is. She is someone who loves her child deeply. I love my mother so much! I promise to study hard, to be a good child, a good student, and a good citizen, to repay the great love my mother has given me all these years, taking care of everything from my meals to my sleep.

“Mother is like the vast ocean
I will always remember your kindness.”

Author: Bùi Văn Ánh - a civil engineering student at Hanoi University of Civil Engineering (third year)

Among the most touching essays about mothers, the one written by Bùi Văn Ánh, a male student in a technical field, truly moves the reader to tears. With an incredibly difficult life, facing hardship after hardship, the image of the mother in his writing is extraordinary and majestic. Not every woman in such circumstances can be as strong as she was. The author wrote for his mother on 'Mother's Day' as a heartfelt expression of gratitude, a profound understanding of the struggles she endured, and encouragement filled with love, unspoken but deeply felt.

Readers should take a moment to read and reflect on the maturity of this young man, who, despite coming from a poor family, strives to rise above, never blaming fate, and deeply empathizing with his mother's burdens. Her daily struggles, the overwhelming responsibilities, and the lack of rest were conveyed so simply and clearly that it felt like an intimate conversation between a son and his mother, with the bond of love between them enduring all challenges. His mother must also feel happiness knowing her son has grown and understood her hardships. It is both touching and meaningful.

I wonder if there’s another 'Mother’s Day' like this besides March 8th and October 20th, Mom? You’re still working tirelessly, worrying about our small family, about me, your son, struggling far away in the city, facing so many difficulties and temptations. Even when you receive flowers and gifts from me on these important days, you laugh and say: “What’s this? Where’s the money for all this?” You are always like that, never thinking of yourself, but always giving everything to us. In my mind, you are always beautiful and gentle. You never scold us, just speaking softly. Everyone says you’re like a teacher. But life is so hard that you’ve become frailer...

My childhood passed peacefully in the loving arms of you, Mom. Dad worked far away, and you stayed at home taking care of us three children, burdened with the work of farming. Back then, I was too young to help you, but perhaps because of that, I feel even more for you. I saw you working tirelessly in the fields, shoulders bent under heavy loads, and I only wished I could grow up quickly to help ease your burdens. After a long day, you’d eat just a little rice, and before you could rest, you’d be off working again in the sweltering heat. But you always remained cheerful, laughing and playing with us. When I reached fifth grade, you went south to work with Dad. I remember feeling so empty inside, not wanting you to go, but I knew you did it for our better future. In our village, we only relied on rice crops and sweet potatoes, so how could we ever prosper? The night before you left, I couldn’t sleep. You were away for a long time, and I still felt an emptiness.

But as a son, I had to be strong enough to face that feeling. I knew you always wanted me to be the eldest, the one who could take care of my younger siblings. When you and Dad returned to the North, we thought our family would finally be reunited, living happily together. But instead, even more challenges came our way. At 18, I was overjoyed to pass the exams for both the Military Medical Academy and Hanoi University of Civil Engineering with high scores. I chose the Military Medical Academy because it offered tuition exemptions, which would be more suitable for our family’s financial situation. But then, disaster struck—I was involved in a traffic accident on the day I was supposed to enroll in school. The doctors said my left leg was broken in two. This shattered my dream of becoming a student at the Military Medical Academy, the very field my parents had hoped for. I realized that I had become a burden to my family. I became a student at the University of Civil Engineering, enrolling as the last student.

Feeling sorry for me, Mom came all the way to school to take care of me, working hard as a janitor. I remember when she helped me with the admission procedures; she had to walk back and forth in the scorching summer heat. I saw her sweating, still massaging my leg to ease the pain, and I almost cried. I had never felt so helpless and useless. I knew Mom would have to endure a lot of hardship for my sake. We lived in a small staff room in the school. Despite the hustle and bustle of the city, I felt happy in those moments with Mom. Every day, Mom would sweep the school yard, and I would attend classes. Her small wages were not enough to cover medical bills and living expenses, but she still did everything she could to stay close to me. At first, I felt embarrassed about our circumstances, but soon I became accustomed to it and received help from my friends.

Back home, only Dad and my younger brother remained to take care of the farm. However, not long after, Dad was also involved in an accident, injuring his heel and losing his ability to work. His constant sickness prevented him from taking care of the chickens in the coop and the fish in the pond. The family’s wealth was non-existent, and we faced countless struggles. Around that time, the new labor contractor at the University of Civil Engineering told Mom and me we could no longer stay on campus. I had no choice but to live with friends and support myself by tutoring. Mom worked as a vendor, commuting between Hanoi and Ninh Bình, balancing her responsibilities with taking care of Dad and earning money for the family. I couldn’t have imagined that disaster would strike again when my younger brother was involved in a terrible traffic accident just before his final university exam. The accident left him with a severe brain injury, paralyzing half of his body, which meant his dream of attending university was shattered.

This news was like a lightning strike to my ears. I completely broke down. I understood better than anyone that Mom must have been in the most pain, watching both her husband and children suffer one misfortune after another. I’ll never forget the tears streaming down Mom’s face that day. Sometimes, I wonder why life is so unfair. Why do other women get to dedicate themselves to their families, while Mom has never had a moment of rest? Those questions sometimes make me feel disgusted and weary of life. But as I’ve grown older, I know what I must do. I must not blame fate or feel inferior. Instead, I must study hard so that you, Mom, won’t have to work so hard anymore.

Mom, please rest easy knowing I won’t do anything to disappoint you, because you’ve suffered enough already. This semester, I have many projects to work on, and it’s exhausting, but your smile gives me the strength to keep going even when I feel like giving up. A thousand, a million thank-yous will never be enough for everything you’ve done for us. I’ve never longed for life as much as I do when I think of you. I’ve never been brave enough to say 'I love you, Mom,' but in my heart, you will always be the most wonderful woman.

Author: Nguyễn Trung Hiếu - 11th Grade, Physics Class - Amsterdam Specialized School - Hanoi

In response to the topic: "State your opinion on the role of money in life," Nguyễn Trung Hiếu wrote about his mother, who is constantly worried about daily struggles to make ends meet. This essay received a score of 9 with highly commendable remarks from his literature teacher, who was genuinely surprised and moved. How about Mytour's readers? Read on to understand how money plays an essential role in determining the quality of life in any family, particularly for those in difficult financial situations. For families where the primary breadwinner is ill and unable to work, money becomes a heavy burden on the women of the family.

Nguyễn Trung Hiếu's mother has been living under such conditions. Suffering from stage 4 kidney failure, she has to undergo dialysis at the hospital daily, and the funds for her treatments are gradually dwindling. Yet, to her children, she continues to offer unconditional care. Despite all the hardships, she ensures her children never miss breakfast before school, because, more than anyone, she understands the importance of good health.In his essay, Nguyễn Trung Hiếu expresses his conflicted feelings about money—disliking it yet also valuing it—through heartfelt messages to his beloved mother. He wants to share the financial burden with her, save money together, and excel in his studies to make her proud.

“Oh my goodness! Eat, please! Don’t skip breakfast anymore. Don’t be foolish by trying to save a few coins. Do you think I will die just because we’re short on money?” These are the daily “refrains” his mother expresses recently, after he decided to skip breakfast to save money for the family. Sometimes, she even scolds him, asking, “Why do you agonize so much over money?”

Mom, in those moments when you were angry, I didn’t dare to argue back. But now, I want to explain why I thought and acted the way I did. Yes, it was all because of money. Only now do I realize how naive and immature I was before, when I didn’t fully understand the value of money.

Eight years ago, the hospital diagnosed Mom with chronic kidney failure, stage 4 (the highest stage). For the past eight years, our family has lived in poverty, with both parents unable to earn much while spending everything on her dialysis. But despite this, they still gave me everything they could, while I, a carefree student, didn’t even think about these struggles.

When I was in elementary school, money seemed so insignificant to me. It was just colorful paper I could exchange for snacks, candies, rice cakes, or bread. I never realized that money would become the deciding factor in saving my mother’s life, that it would be what my parents had to save and borrow just to afford dialysis at Bach Mai Hospital. It also became the source of great stress for Mom, who had to stop working due to her deteriorating health. Then, in eighth grade, her condition worsened, and she had to increase her dialysis sessions from two to three times a week. The veins on her arms became so swollen they looked like two eggs, and on some days, the bandages were soaked with blood. Due to kidney failure, she also developed pneumonia and heart failure.

Then Dad fell seriously ill, and had to stop working to take care of him, pushing our family into even more dire circumstances. A hundred thousand VND became a luxury we couldn’t afford. That was when I started to understand that money wasn’t just paper—it was sweat, tears, blood (literally, because money was needed for dialysis), and the endless worries of my parents. One day, I asked Mom what her thoughts on money were, to help me write my essay for school. She was surprised by the question and replied simply with three words: “I hate money.” If I were still the naïve child I was, or an outsider, I would have been shocked by her answer.

But now, I agree with her: I too hate money. It’s because of money that Mom has to endure the exhaustion of dialysis three times a week. She used to go by bicycle, but when she realized it was too exhausting for both her and Dad, and that they had to waste hours waiting, she switched to taking a motorcycle taxi. But the daily cost was too much, so she switched to the bus. Every time she returned home, she would be out of breath, collapsing onto the bed, unable to speak a word. Dad and I knew then not to ask her anything and just let her rest. Eight years of witnessing this, yet I still can’t get used to it. I can only stand from afar, grinding my teeth, wishing, “If only we had just fifty thousand VND for Mom to take a motorcycle taxi, it wouldn’t be so hard!”

Suddenly, I grew to hate money. I remember when Mom was in the hospital, and three patients had to share one small bed in the overcrowded ward at Bach Mai Hospital. I innocently asked Mom, “Why don’t you go to the other room? They have separate beds, air conditioning, and even TVs.” Mom quietly replied, “That’s a service room, my dear.” At that moment, I didn’t understand. But now I realize that the service room is only for those who have plenty of money. For someone like Mom, she couldn’t afford that luxury. That’s when I began to despise money. I’m even afraid of money now. Don’t you understand, Mom? I’m afraid of it because I’m afraid of losing you. Mom has already had four emergency hospitalizations. Long-term kidney patients have a high risk of dying due to high blood pressure, and blocked airways from swelling in the lungs. Mom knows this very well.

Many of Mom’s friends in the “dialysis community” have met tragic ends. There are nights when I wake up suddenly, drenched in sweat, terrified by the thought of losing her. I fear that if we don’t have enough money for her hospital bills, I will lose the most beloved person in my life. Every time Mom goes for dialysis, both Dad and I feel anxious and restless. If she’s late coming home, I feel like my heart is on fire. Dad keeps pacing around, asking, “When is she coming back?” For me, it’s a 50/50 chance—either Mom comes back safe and sound, or… I worry even more when I read news about people who couldn’t afford their medical fees, and had to return home to “self-treat,” which is a death sentence for dialysis patients.

I’m terrified to ask myself what would happen if we lost our health insurance. And what if Grandpa passes away? The daily expenses of our family now mostly depend on his pension, but he’s already so old… Mom, I’m sure you understand better than I do just how important money is to our family. Whenever I think of money, I’m reminded of those nights when Dad couldn’t sleep, worn out from worry, or of the swollen veins in Mom’s arms, or the spoonful of sugar I would dissolve in warm water to help her regain strength each night. Mom has saved every penny, even refusing to buy cheap health supplements for herself.

I’m afraid of money, but I also want it. I hate money, yet I value it. I cherish money and respect it because I’m always grateful to those who have helped our family—whether it’s kind monks who invite Mom to the temple on weekends, or generous people from the Red Cross who donate to our family. Even my friends, though they haven’t been able to help us financially, always ask about Mom’s health. Thanks to them, I feel warmer and more confident.

I feel helpless and deeply guilty when Mom disagrees with my plans. There was a time when I wanted to work, tutor, or even sell triangle sandwiches like some university students to help her, but she kept refusing, insisting I should focus on school. She said, “I just want you to study well. If you do, I’ll be healthy.” I listened to her, of course. I still go to school. I will try my best to excel so that both Mom and Dad are proud. But please, Mom, let me help you. I’ve thought it through. If I can’t work, I’ll skip breakfast to save some money. If I can’t sell sandwiches, I’ll eat rice with sesame salt.

Mom, please don’t worry. Take care of yourself and let me share the financial burden with you and Dad. Please don’t scold me when I skip breakfast, and don’t forbid me from grinding peanuts to make sesame salt. Even though I’ve lost 8 kilograms since last year, I believe that with mutual understanding among our family, we can live peacefully and not let money become the sole factor determining our happiness. Your silly child!

Author: Pham Nguyen Dong Hung - Class 11 CA3 - Tran Dai Nghia High School - Ho Chi Minh City

Similar to Bui Nhu Mai's essay, Pham Nguyen Dong Hung's piece on maternal love, written as a student of Class 11 CA3 at Tran Dai Nghia High School in Ho Chi Minh City, scored 9 points and impressed the teacher. Despite being in just 11th grade, his deep and meaningful understanding of maternal love shines through. Using his own family as an example, he vividly expresses the profound affection, care, and watchful eye a mother has for her child. He doesn’t hesitate to share his thoughts, offering a message to young people, especially those who may still indulge in carefree behavior, to remind them that a mother’s heart is always open and warm, and they should never make their mothers sad or make her cry.

"Maternal love – a familiar theme for anyone studying literature worldwide. It is the deep concern of parents for their children, perhaps the purest form of love. “Parents raise their children without expecting anything in return.” In the cold, muddy scene of the photo where the mother is walking her child through the rain, I didn’t feel lonely or lost. Because there, the essence of maternal love was present in its simplest and most beautiful form. It is often said, “A tiger does not eat its own cub.” Being a mother is a sacred duty of all creatures, not just humans. Thus, regardless of the form of animals, even fierce beasts, the instinct to protect their offspring always triumphs.

As for myself, I cannot define maternal love because a playful boy like me lacks the experience to articulate it. However, I can describe what I feel about it. For some reason, the first person my eyes always search for is my mother. Even now, I don’t understand why, but when I see my mother in the kitchen, my heart finds peace. I was born into a typical northern family with a strict father. Of course, as a rebellious and mischievous child, I often received scolding from him. During those times, my mother would play the role of a nurse, tending to my wounds. Her gentle hand would soothe my burns, and the comfort felt so relieving. These punishments for my mischief were a constant throughout my childhood, even into 10th grade.

Perhaps because of this, I became closer to my mother than my father. I also remember being hospitalized once (because as a child, I often played in the rain and suffered from chronic pneumonia). I had a fever for a whole month and could only eat the porridge my mother brought me. The porridge wasn’t great; it was too watery and too salty. Later, I learned she added medicine to it, but somehow, I still ate it. Since then, every time I’m sick, I’m fed that same porridge. Its taste will likely follow me for the rest of my life. If you ask where maternal love comes from, I’m sorry, I can't explain it. Perhaps it’s the ultimate source of strength that exists in every mother?

Maternal love is so sacred and noble, yet there are still those who stain it for personal gain, for money. Teenage mothers sometimes discard their children, while some children, in the pursuit of land, cast their mothers onto the streets. There are also false children who act cold and disdainful toward their mothers while alive, only to show fake mourning when she passes. Not to mention mothers who, out of blind love, spoil their children and contribute to their downfall. Such stories are rampant in our world.

But fortunately, these cases are the minority, because, as the nature of maternal love dictates, it always leans towards goodness. Fathers and mothers love their children endlessly. Actions always speak louder than words. A single gesture speaks more than a thousand “I love you’s”. I don’t need to provide more examples because there are so many wonderful mothers out there. Go out and experience it for yourselves, my friends. I don’t know about you, but as for me, I don’t dare call myself a filial child. I haven’t fulfilled my duty as a son. From childhood, I’ve been a burden that my mother has had to bear. As a child, she was always worried about my health; as I grew older, she worried about my stubbornness. I constantly argued with my father, and during those times, my mother would step in as the peacemaker.

My mother is someone who holds everything in and never argues with my father. After every argument, my mother would cry. During those moments, I wanted to run downstairs and hug her, but my pride stopped me. Why am I so weak? Why do I let her cry? No, I’m still not worthy of being the man of the house. Mom, I know you carry a lot of pressure living in this home. I wish I had understood that sooner. I don’t need to prove anything to Dad anymore; please just be the cheerful person you once were, mom.

The image of my mother walking me through flooded streets makes me reflect deeply on feelings I can hardly express in words. Sometimes, mothers may seem irritable or upset. Please understand them; don’t focus on their words, but observe their actions. A mother may scold, but her heart is always warm and open to her child. Her words may be harsh, but we always feel the best intentions behind them. I don’t need to say more; you probably already know what to do. As for me, I may have grown up, but I’m still not wise. Mom, I’m sorry, I haven’t been the son you deserve.

Author: Tăng Văn Bình - Class 6, 2003 - Lý Nhật Quang Secondary School - Đô Lương Town - Nghệ An

For the prompt: "Describe your beloved mother," 6th grader Tăng Văn Bình earned a perfect score of 10, with the comment: "I believe in you. A bright future awaits you. Keep going, Bình!" This praise became a reality when he later became the valedictorian of his university, scoring a perfect 30/30. His essay reveals the deep love he feels for his mother, and it's clear why he succeeded.

His essay was brief but clear, sincere, and well-written. Tăng Văn Bình describes his mother and family situation with genuine emotion. Raised without a father, he and his mother faced many hardships together. Yet, it was through these struggles and his mother's endless love that he understood her hard work was all for him. He became her never-ending hope and worked hard to honor her sacrifices.

"Everyone has a mother. She is an invaluable emotional support that should be cherished. My mother is no exception; she has always showered us with love to make up for the absence of our father.

I was born without ever seeing my father’s face, which is a profound loss. But whenever I am with my mother, I feel truly happy. When I turned one, my mother had to work hard to support the family, from brickmaking to laboring jobs. I can't help but shed tears thinking of her hardships. Despite working tirelessly, we still struggled to make ends meet, so she took on teaching jobs. Fortunately, she was eventually able to secure a stable position.

My mother's hands are rough, full of calluses from years of hard labor. Her eyes are weary, but I know that on holidays, while everyone is celebrating, my mother quietly sits in the garden, crying. Her tears speak of the deep, faithful love she has for me. I admire her so much. She has always been there for me, guiding me every step of the way, motivating me to keep striving for success. I remember one year when the crops failed, and my mother had to carry bricks to earn money. Her shoulders bore the pain of the task, but they are also full of memories. To this day, my mother never stops working.

Perhaps fate won't allow her to rest, but her spirit remains optimistic and full of life. I am deeply moved by her. Over the years, my mother has endured many challenges with resilience. She is the light of my life. I know she has one dream: "I don't want your life to be like mine. I want to give you a better future." I also know that for me, my mother would sacrifice everything, even her own happiness.

That's why she is strict with me when I make mistakes. I admire her for that. I strive to be a good child, not to disappoint her, and to repay her sacrifices. My mother is unlike any other. In her eyes, I am her shining hope. I will always remember her words: "If my mother is the river, I am the water; the river cannot flow without the water."

Author: Updating

For every article written about mothers, there are countless ways to express the sincere love of a child, stemming from their heart. Even though the words might be clumsy or unable to fully convey the message, they are truly precious and deserve to be cherished. The following piece, though its author remains unknown, deeply moves the reader. The writing is rich in emotion and imagery, taking us through the story of a mother and her child, in the simplicity of everyday life, yet filled with varied emotions. Despite moments of childish misunderstanding and mistakes, the mother remains the most compassionate, caring, and loving figure in the child's life.

“Tonight, I will sleep peacefully
Mother is the wind that carries me forever.”

In this life, who hasn’t been raised in the embrace of their mother, hearing her sweet lullaby, and who hasn’t drifted into dreams with her gentle hand fanning the heat of a summer afternoon? And in this world, who loves their child more than a mother? Who would sacrifice everything for their child like a mother does? For me, my mother is the one who cares for me the most and the one I love and am forever grateful for.

I often thought that my mother wasn’t beautiful. She didn’t have fair skin, a round, angelic face, or sparkling eyes. Instead, she had a thin, sun-kissed face, a high forehead, and the wrinkles of a woman in her 40s, bearing the weight of life's worries around her eyes. But my father said that my mother’s beauty lies in her intelligence. Indeed, my mother is smart, quick-witted, and resourceful. As a leader, people often think she is strict and distant. At times, I thought so too. But when I sat beside her, with her gentle hand caressing my hair, all those thoughts disappeared. I felt an indescribable sense of warmth, a love so profound that I had never felt before.

It seemed as though an intense stream of love flowed from her hand into my heart, through her eyes, her tender lips, her sweet smile... through everything she is. That love can only be felt when you are near her for long enough. From childhood to adulthood, I’ve received my mother’s infinite love as a given, as a blessing. As a child, I never questioned why she unconditionally sacrificed for me. She was kind to me, very kind, but there were times when I thought she was being unfair, even cruel. There were times when she scolded me, and I cried—not because I regretted my actions, but because I felt frustrated and bitter.

Then one day… I came home from school and found my mother secretly reading my diary. I was furious and grabbed the diary from her hands, shouting, “How could you do this? This is my secret, you have no right to touch it! You’re so cruel! I don’t need you anymore!” I thought I was going to get a slap, but instead, she remained silent, her cheeks pale, her eyes filled with tears. Something in her expression made it hard for me to look her in the eye. I ran to my room, locked the door, and ignored my father’s calls. I cried so much, my pillow soaked with tears. The night dragged on, and I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I felt empty, lost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I tried to console myself, thinking I would be happy living in a world without my mother and without the pressure of school.

But that emptiness couldn’t be filled. Was I feeling regret? Was I longing for love? My thoughts wandered until I slowly drifted off. In a dreamlike state, I felt a warm hand gently touch my hair, pulling the blanket up for me. Yes, I had been longing for that sweet, loving touch. I basked in that moment of tenderness, closing my eyes tightly, afraid that if I opened them, that feeling would vanish into thin air, and all I’d be left with would be the cold reality. The next morning, when I woke up, the house felt so empty. Something was missing. I had to eat bread instead of the usual rice. I nervously asked my father where my mother had gone. He told me she was sick and had to stay in the hospital for a week. The sadness enveloped my small mind. Who would cook, who would clean, who would talk to me?

I felt so regretful, thinking I had destroyed the happiness of our little home because of my anger. It was my fault that my mother was sick. That whole week, I was very sad. The house felt so lonely without her smile. Every meal I had to eat out, no one was there to make the dishes I loved. Oh, how I missed my mother’s boiled vegetables and stewed meat. After a week, when my mother returned home, I was the first to greet her. As soon as she saw me, she ran to hug me tightly. She cried and said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have read your secret. Please forgive me.” I was choked with emotion, my tears flowing uncontrollably. I wanted to say, “Mom, it’s my fault, I’m the one who’s wrong, it’s all my fault,” but the words were too difficult to say. I just held her, crying so much.

Oh my! After that week, I realized just how important my mother is to me. Every day, she was swamped with work, yet she seemed to have magic in her hands. She woke up before dawn to prepare breakfast for us, and when she returned home, she cooked delicious meals. Those meals weren’t anything fancy, just simple home-cooked dishes, but they were filled with her infinite love. My father and I were like little birds, receiving every drop of her affection. On the days when she wasn’t around, the two of us would scramble to do things, but it was never the same. She also did the laundry, cleaned the house… she worked tirelessly. She gave me everything, and I never had the chance to repay her. I’ve never even told her I love her. Many times, I’ve tried to gather the courage to say it, but I’ve never managed. All I want to say is, “Mom, now that I’m grown, I realize just how much I love and need you.”

I now know how to love, to listen to her. When I make mistakes, she scolds me, and I no longer feel angry. I just lower my head, accept my mistakes, and promise not to repeat them. When I’m happy or sad, I tell her, and she comforts me with her gentle hands and tender eyes. My mother is not just my mother; she is my friend, my sister… she is everything to me. Now that I’m grown, I realize how lucky I am to have her beside me, guiding me, reminding me. She washes my clothes, cleans the house, and cooks for the family. Mom, you’ve sacrificed so much for me, and you’ve never asked for anything in return. You are the best, the greatest, the most wonderful mother in the world. No one can compare to you. You are always there to protect me. Oh, how I love you, Mom! If only I were brave enough to say three words: 'I love you!' But I’m not, I’m not as strong as you. I write these words, hoping you’ll understand my heart better. Don’t think that when I seem to defy you, it’s because I don’t like you.

I will always love you, Mom. I’ll be happy when you’re here, and sad when you’re in trouble. You are my whole life, and all I wish is for you to live forever, to love me, care for me, comfort me, guide me, and for me to be able to love and care for you for the rest of my life. The love of a mother is the most sacred love in the world. It is the love that nurtures and shapes us into who we are. My mother is the one who gave me that love, so I will always love her and strive to grow up to care for her. I want to tell her: 'No matter how old I get, I will always be your child. Throughout my life, your love will always be with me.'

Author: Updating

For many, confessing love to the person they adore might be easy, but expressing that same love to the one who gave them life can be difficult. Writing becomes the way to express feelings when direct words fail. This piece expresses a child's deep love for their mother, with no way to embrace her tightly and say: 'I love you so much, thank you for being my mother.' Let's read and empathize with the child in this story, and understand that every mother shares one thing in common: loving her child more than herself.

I've written countless times, but never about my mother, even though she is the one who has been by my side the longest, loving me the most. Today, I realized... the look in her eyes brings me peace. Whenever I accidentally see her quietly watching my father and me, I feel safe and warm at home. Whenever I come back or leave, she always walks me to the door, watching over me. Every road I walk carries the warmth of her eyes, like a protective charm.

Her hands tie my soul. The food she makes, the corners of our house, the everyday tasks, are etched in the small crevices of my mind. I realized I often compare things: 'Wow, my mom's dish is way better,' 'I only like the ABC dish my mom makes,' 'I follow what my mom taught me, keeping things clean,' or 'Mom does it this way for all of us.' I realized that every woman I meet reminds me of her. No matter where I am, the lifestyle there always brings me memories of her.

Her footsteps bring me peace of mind. Her feet are silent, but when she walks on the tile floor, it makes a 'clack-clack' sound. If I don't hear that sound all day, I'll ask my dad where she is. Even at my grandparents' house, when I hear that sound, I know it’s her. It’s a sound that belongs to her, so ordinary but so comforting to my dad and me. Sometimes, at 11 a.m. or 5 p.m., I miss that sound when she’s tidying up around the house. I just lie down and listen.

Her voice brings growth. Those times she taught me, those times she scolded me with the words 'Don’t ever do that again,' or when we argued fiercely, all those moments felt like the rain slowly soaking into the earth. I never understood why she would talk so much until I faced troubles outside. She didn’t teach me how to handle every situation, but she taught me to choose the path that would hurt the least people.

Her tears soften my heart, the place where I thought she would never understand me. She may never know why I did this or that, but her tears hurt me more than a thousand scoldings and made me reflect on my actions. And she, just a simple woman doing simple things, brings me to tears as I write these lines in a café. She makes me realize how small I am compared to her love.

I’ve long forgotten the hugs, the tender words, and the loving gestures. I thought those things weren’t necessary—or maybe I lacked the courage to show them. When I miss my mother, I don't think about the times she said she loved me, or when she bought me expensive things. I remember her figure, the little things she did, the times she scolded me, and the times I was chastised. Not because I hold a grudge, but because I realize I love her most in those moments (though I don’t fully understand why).

I didn’t write these lines on Mother’s Day, or Women’s Day, or any special occasion. I wrote this today, on a regular day when I truly miss my mother and think about her love. Writing from the depths of my heart. For the first time, I wrote about her, and it brought me so many tears (and I lost my composure in front of others). Of course, I’ll keep this secret, just like other children. My mother will never read this, because her love for me is quiet, and so is mine for her. And we will always wonder why we can never truly understand each other. Why is it so easy to express love to strangers, but so hard to say ‘I love you’ to the one who gave us life?

Author: Bùi Như Mai - Class 11 CA3 - Trần Đại Nghĩa High School - Ho Chi Minh City

From a photograph taken by author Ngô Trần Hải Anh, which captured a mother leading her son through floodwaters in Saigon, Bùi Như Mai, an 11th-grade student, completed an outstanding reflection on maternal love. Her essay earned a 9 out of 10 and received praise from her teacher. With authentic writing, clear language, rich imagery, and deep emotion, Bùi Như Mai moved readers to empathize with her thoughts on the boundless and noble love of a mother.

The image of the mother in the photo appears to be struggling against the rain, wading through water while pushing a broken-down bike forward, all while carrying the weight of her son on top. Her determination to keep her child safe and dry left a lasting impression on the author. This reflection made the author reconsider her own life, realizing that she had been the recipient of her mother's unconditional love every day, even though sometimes her actions had caused her mother sadness. She silently reproached herself for riding while her mother pushed the bike and thought about how much effort she needed to put in to make her mother happy.

The rains in Saigon had been relentless recently, soaking everything in its path. The streets had slowly turned into rivers. Amidst this bleakness, there were still many heartwarming and touching moments. Among them, there was the image of a mother, in the midst of the persistent rain, struggling to wade through waters higher than the wheels of her bike, determined to keep her child dry. This powerful image conveyed the immense depth of a mother's love.

Motherhood is the unconditional love a mother has for her child, from the moment of conception to the moment she passes away. This love is selfless. No mother thinks about how she will be repaid for all her sacrifices. All she wants is for her child to grow up healthy and happy. While young girls may sometimes be weak, spoiled, or even difficult, once they become mothers, the love of a mother gives them the strength to endure hardships, to be resilient, and to stand firm for their children, because their child is everything. Motherhood is not a simple or fragile emotion; it is a powerful force, a magical gift of humanity.

Motherhood comes to women naturally. The moment they realize they are carrying a tiny life within them, a deep, protective love for that life awakens within them. This sacred feeling is invisible, like the air we breathe, but without it, no child could grow up complete. When a child is small, stumbling through their first steps and first words, the mother is there to shield them from life's storms, giving them a peaceful, warm childhood. And as the child grows older and steps into the world, the mother remains quietly watching, always there, even from afar. Because a mother is home, she is love.

Motherhood also means infinite forgiveness. No matter what mistakes a child makes, no matter how the world turns its back on them, the mother is always there, ready to embrace them and forgive them. We can see mothers with graying hair and bent backs, tirelessly bringing food and necessities to visit their children in prison. Motherhood also means sacrifice. Behind the success stories of rural children overcoming hardships to become top students at prestigious universities, there are often mothers who work tirelessly under the sun, saving every penny to ensure their children can study.

There are so many women who could live comfortably, yet they toil away, working hard to ensure their children have a better future. The sacrifices of a mother cannot be fully expressed in words, as one poet once wrote: "The words of the world are too simple – How can they measure two words: 'Mother'". Motherhood not only helps a child grow up but also helps women become more mature, teaching them to live selflessly, to put their children's needs before their own, to live with composure and strength, becoming the shield and example for their children.

A mother loves her child so much, yet the child may not always understand their mother's heart or love her as much as she loves them. Like the child in the photograph, young and strong, yet letting their mother wade through the rain. In the world, there are those who are even worse. They are rude and ungrateful to their parents. A single loud word from a mother is enough to make them storm off, leaving the mother at home worrying endlessly. But the greatest disrespect to a mother is when she has sacrificed everything for her child, yet the child refuses to put in effort, preferring to rely on her instead of studying or working. Such people are truly to be pitied. There are also those who, because of poverty, blame their mother for not being able to provide more.

"Children never complain about their parents being poor, and dogs never complain about their owners being poor." Those who blame their mothers in such a way do not deserve the love their parents have given them. I, too, have been angry with my mother at times. But as I grew older, I began to understand just how much my mother had sacrificed for me. That’s why every day, I strive to study and help her as much as I can. I may not be able to make my mother live a life of luxury, but I can certainly bring her happiness every day. My mother may not be able to give me the best things in the world, but she will always give me the best of what she has. A mother’s love is so great that I hope everyone will receive the joy, happiness, and love that matches the love of their children. And: "If you still have your mother, don't make her cry. Don’t let sorrow fill her eyes, do you hear me?"

Author: Hà Thị Phương Linh - Class 12A1 - Nhân Việt High School - Tân Phú District - Ho Chi Minh City

This essay about the author’s mother, Hà Thị Phương Linh, was shared in a very special context—on the first day of the new school year. Instead of the usual brief reflections on school, teachers, and the start of a new year, this young girl chose to share with the entire school her feelings about her mother through stories of their relationship. Many tears were shed as the words deeply touched everyone’s hearts, causing them to pause and reflect. The essay also served as an expression of the hidden emotions of many students like Linh, who couldn’t express these feelings to their mothers, and it awakened many souls that had not yet realized the sacred value of motherhood.

In her natural and honest storytelling, Hà Thị Phương Linh does not hesitate to admit her past mistakes as a daughter who caused her mother concern due to her materialistic desires—a flaw that many young people today share. She even harbored feelings of resentment toward her mother when her requests were not met. She never understood why her mother behaved the way she did until one day, the very mother she had resented unconditionally loved her, standing by her side during her toughest times and opening up a new door of hope for her future. It was then that Linh truly woke up and realized the extraordinary generosity of her mother.

Let’s read and reflect on the story.

During elementary school, my mother often forced me to nap and study. If I didn’t listen, she would scold me, and I hated her for it. Sometimes, I thought, “My mother is so cruel.” The situation didn’t improve when I entered middle school. I hated my mother even more for constantly nitpicking. At that point, I just wanted to pack my things and leave home. I hated her! I wanted to live in a world without my mother… I had a tendency to desire things, but my family wasn’t wealthy. When I was in 9th grade, I insisted on attending a private school despite the high tuition fees, thinking very selfishly. Every time my father came home and saw me misbehaving, he would scold my mother, and this often led to arguments between them.

In high school, all my classmates had birthday parties, but I had never had one. I asked my mother for money, but she said it was too expensive and only gave me a few hundred to buy drinks for my friends. That night, I threw a tantrum and complained endlessly. Despite my outbursts, my mother remained firm and refused to give me the money. I got angrier and argued with her as if it was a fight with a peer… The peak of our conflict occurred in 11th grade when I moved closer to school. This was the year I’ll never forget the way I treated my mother. On Christmas Eve, I asked my mother to pick me up earlier, but she forgot. As a result, I had to walk for an hour. When I got home, I argued with her and said things I never thought I would say.

On Christmas night, I went to church, but when I walked out, my mother scolded me in front of my friends. I didn’t think and angrily threw the gate key at her, injuring her hand, which remained bruised for a month. At that moment, I was furious at my mother, but deep down, I knew I was a very bad daughter. I realized my mother must care about me, but because she scolded me and forced me to follow rules, I found it hard to accept. Moreover, seeing my friends receive so much and be spoiled by their parents made me wish my mother were like my friends’ mothers.

But things began to change when I entered the 12th grade. I had a major falling-out with my classmates. They were the same friends I once told my mother were better to me than she was. We began to form cliques and argued on Facebook, and soon they came to my house to threaten me. They isolated me and my friends from the class. This conflict lasted for several days, and it affected me deeply. I couldn’t eat or sleep. When I reached my breaking point, I told my mother about the problems and asked to transfer schools. That day, my mother scolded me a lot, telling me, “You should just die to make things easier,” and decided to let me quit school. Even so, she still stood by me when I was down. She gave me a new opportunity at a different school.

That night, my mother couldn’t sleep and tossed and turned. That’s when I began to regret following my friends and turning my back on my mother. The next morning, she got up early to take my younger brother to school, then came back to take me to school to withdraw my records. In the scorching midday sun, my mother didn’t nap and drove me to the new school to enroll. In the afternoon, she went with me, picking up my younger brother and preparing my meals for the new school. At 7 p.m., because the school rule didn’t allow me to wear shorts, my mother rushed to buy some for me. All day long, she hadn’t eaten enough, but she ran around for me. That moment truly changed the way I thought about my mother. Going to a boarding school far from home, I began to long for the beautiful moments when my mother was by my side. I understood and began to cherish her more. My mother didn’t hate me like I thought. When she forced me to nap or study, it was for my own good. Even when she punished me, she suffered more than I did. I still remember that whenever she punished me as a child, she would rub my back with balm at night.

At my new school, I must be eternally grateful to my literature teacher. She taught me to realize that “Our parents are wonderful people. Though they may not always be right, the best thing they’ve done for us is to send us to school. So we can understand and find the wisdom to resolve the generational and societal conflicts.” I gradually began to see and feel that, although my mother may have been a simple, country woman, she sacrificed her career and work to care for my siblings and me...

As a daughter, when I grow up and become a mother, I don’t want my child to be like I was. Only when faced with difficulties did I realize that my true support wasn’t my friends, but my family, my mother, the one who gave birth to me and raised me. Now that I am mature enough to understand, I want to tell my mother, “I’m sorry, mom! I never listened to your advice. I ignored everything you told me and disobeyed you. I was so rebellious. The things I did must have hurt you so much. But I’m still lucky to realize all this in time and to respect you every minute, every second while you’re still with me…”

Author: Nguyễn Thị Kiều Vân - 8th Grade Student

"There is only one sun in the sky, and only one mother in my life," as the saying goes. Having a mother is the greatest joy in life, and losing her is the greatest sorrow. Nguyễn Thị Kiều Vân's essay touches the heart and brings tears to the reader. At only 9 years old, Vân's mother passed away due to a serious illness. Yet, the love and care her mother gave her during those short years are etched in her memory forever. In her essay about her mother, Nguyễn Thị Kiều Vân writes with all her heart, using simple words full of emotion and longing.

The image of Vân's mother is beautifully portrayed through her words: a mother who loved her unconditionally and taught her the values of life. Through this essay, we come to love and admire this little girl who cherishes her mother deeply. This love has given her strength and courage to face life's challenges. Her perspective as an orphan sends a message that many fail to understand: live well so that you don't disappoint your mother or make her cry, even once.

My childhood was not as fortunate as other children. Since I was born, I have been fatherless. My mother raised me all by herself, and she was both the father and mother I could ever have.

But when I was nine, in such a short time, my mother left me all alone in this world. At that age, I was too young to fully comprehend what it meant to never have my mother beside me. But the memory of her will never fade. Every step I take feels like her shadow guiding me. My mother lives on in my heart. She was a strong woman, who always lived for me. Even though life was hard and she had to endure a serious illness, she remained optimistic and full of love for life. My mother was tall, her skin darkened from the sun, and her face was kind and gentle. She always taught me the best values. She comforted me when I was sad or failed. She always worried about me and tried to give me the best, while I often made her sad and made her cry.

My mother taught me many things: “Be honest and upright. Be thankful but don’t hold grudges. Learn to forgive and love others. Always stay united with your siblings, and don’t let others say you were not raised well.” These are the valuable lessons she left me with before she passed away. At that time, I didn’t understand much. I lived carefree, as if it didn’t matter whether my mother was there or not. But now, I understand what it means to be motherless. I now realize that these words were the most precious gift my mother gave me. I miss her so much, and I will live according to her teachings.

My mother overcame many difficulties to live, and I will do the same. She will always be the light that guides me. Her smile still lingers in my mind, even after she left. Now, I wish I could hold her hand, sit by her side, but I can’t! My mother loved me so much, and she sacrificed her life so I could live better. I remember the nights when she suffered, and when I saw her in pain, I didn’t know what to do but just cry. She held my hand and smiled through her tears, saying “I’m fine, my dear.” Then, I fell asleep, not realizing how foolish I had been. Now, I understand how much she loved me, and I love her just as much. Even though she is no longer with me, she still lives in my heart. I will live well to make her proud, as that is the only thing I can do now.

My mother was truly amazing. She is the most important person in my life, and though she is no longer physically with me, she will always be by my side in spirit. If only I could live with her for just one more day, I would take care of her, something I never did before. I would make her happy, and never let her cry. And what I want to say to my mother is: 'Mom, I love you so much. I wish I could live and take care of you. Mom, I really wish I could.' To those who still have their mothers, never make her cry, even once!