This story will bring you to tears!

This a story of a young daughter and her beloved mother.

Tara’s ten years of life could be summed up in one word.


She absolutely adored her mother, Gene. Every where Gene went, there Tara would be right by her side. Tara loved her mom, she looked up to her. She looked up to her so much that while they would take routine walks around the park, Tara would constantly bump into things because she was so taken back by her moms beauty and elegance.

All throughout elementary school, Tara would constantly insist on having all of her friends over her house for dinner and tea parties, where she would exalt her mother to the center stage and all of her friends would laugh the night away. They would talk about boys, careers, and anything else any little girl could imagine. Tara’s mom was the go to advice mom as well. She was a master at handling any little girls emotions, and giving them the best advice they could imagine. Tara enjoyed just sitting in the background admiring her mom, just hoping she could be half the woman Gene was.

As the years went on though, Gene noticed that Tara stopped inviting her friends over and stopped inviting her to all the school events.

“Tara, my dear, you used to love having your friends stay over what has happened?” asked Gene. “You used to invite me to all of your school functions, and now it seems I’ve been left in the dark, is every thing alright my love?”

Tara answered, “Well mommy, you’re right, I have been distant with you, and I am sorry but, its just…”

“its just what?”, Gene interrupted with a deep concern.

“It’s just that, well…I am ashamed of the scars on your face”, Tara sighed with her head hung low.

All of Taras life, half of her mothers face has been tragically deformed by the heavy scar tissue that started at the bottom of her neck on the left side, all the way up past her missing left eye, to right above her eyebrow.

“Tara” Gene spoke softly, “You have never been ashamed of my face before, why the sudden change of heart?”

“I’m not sure, mom…I just don’t know” Taras eyes began to well up with tears.

“My love” Gene answered as she crouched down to her daughters height. “I suppose you are old enough now for me to explain to you why I have these scars”.

Gene lead Tara to the living room where they sat down side by side in front of the warm fire place.

Gene shifted her posture to face Tara more directly and held her hands.

“You were only a few months old”, Gene began to say. “We used to live in a house a town over from here, it had a fire place just like this one. One cold night, as the fire place was roaring, I had gone outside briefly to gather some more fire wood, since your father was working a late shift. You were upstairs in your crib sound asleep, and as I was getting all of the wood ready to bring inside, I began to smell a burning scent. I turned around and I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

Gene took a break for second to catch her breath, as the emotions from the tragic night began to well up in her spirit. Gene continued, “The whole house was ablaze, my love. And you were upstairs all by yourself, everything in me told me to run as fast as I could towards your room. I ran into the flames of the house, put my scarf over my face and leaped up the stairs to your room. Thankfully, I heard you crying, which helped me realize I wasn’t too late. I grabbed you, wrapped you up in your little pink blanket, and starting running down the stairs. As I got to the front door, a support beam came crashing down on me. I was able to toss you out of the house just before the support beam hit me. Tara, you were safe from the flames, but I was pinned between the doorway and this support beam. The beam was pressed onto my face, melting the skin from my neck to my forehead. Thankfully, I was able to push the beam and quickly move out of the way of it crashing down through the living room wall. You were alive, and I was alive to see that you were. That is all that mattered to me.”

“You mean those scars are because of me?”, Tara asked innocently, but with a hint of guilt.

“No, my child,” her mother whispered, as she pushed Taras bangs out of her eyes. “These scars were for you, I received these scars because I saved you.”


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