When I sit down to write about my mom I don’t exactly know where to start. How am I supposed to sum up someone who’s my everything — my best friend, my superhero, my safe place? From day one, it’s always been her and me against the world.

I’m so proud to be my mother’s daughter; she’s genuinely one of the strongest people I know. Her story isn’t the kind that makes headlines, though it could, and honestly, it should. My mom might not make the front page, but today, her story is getting its due. 

Growing up, I moved around quite a bit, back and forth from L.A. to Canada, then eventually to Texas. Every time we packed up and started over, no matter where we landed, my mom was the one constant. I vividly remember our time in Canada. At this point in time I was an only child and we were away from my dad and the rest of our family, who were in L.A. Looking back now, I see our time in Canada for what it really was. 

As a kid, it felt normal, but now I realize just how tough that chapter was. It was cold, quiet and honestly a little sad. No family gatherings, no vacations and very little noise in our home. Just me and my mom in a small townhouse with snow always falling outside and rarely any visitors.

When nobody was looking out for my mom, she was always looking out for me. She did her absolute most during such a tough time. I remember days when she’d help me put on my snowpants, then warm up the car and let me sit inside, all cozy and toasty, while she scraped the snow off the windows. I remember sitting in her college classes, waiting with her friends during her exams. She studied early childhood education, not for a career at first, but to better understand how to take care of me.

She was so alone, but she was also so strong. There was never a moment she didn’t make sure I felt safe, loved and protected even when things were far from easy. Canada was hard for her, no doubt. But even in that quiet, isolated chapter, I never felt the weight of it. Instead, she filled our small space with warmth, even when the world outside was freezing — literally. 

Fast forward to today, and it’s clear that nothing’s changed. My mom is still the glue holding our family together. I know it might be strange to say, but I’ve always watched my mom grow in ways that make me unbelievably proud. From someone who used to suffer in silence, she’s become someone who speaks her truth and isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right. She’s always done what was needed for her family, no matter what anyone else thought. I’m truly in awe of the person she’s become. All the struggles, experiences and obstacles she had to overcome are what have led her to where she is today.

Now, watching my mom as the director of her own Montessori school is like seeing a whole new side of her. She connects with every single child, and they all adore her. They’re always excited to see Ms. Zarqa, and I can’t help but smile, silently cheering, “That’s my mom.” She’s amazing at what she does, and it’s clear to anyone who walks through the door that she’s not just a teacher, she’s someone who genuinely cares and makes every kid feel seen and valued.

That same love she poured into raising me is the same love she brings into her work. I don’t have enough words to thank my mom for everything she’s done for me over the years. She’s always shown up in the ways that mattered, saving her hard-earned money for trips, investing her time, energy and love into our happiness. Even when I doubt myself, when it feels like no one believes in me, I know my mom does. And sometimes, that’s all I need. 

So in honor of Mother’s Day, to all the moms out there — thank you. For the sacrifices you make, the hard work you put in and for giving us the love and support we need. You may not always make the headlines, but you’re the reason so many of us have a story worth telling. 

And to my mom, Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for everything. You’ll always be on the front page in my book.

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