My senior year in high school was almost over as I stood in line with my friends to receive my yearbook. We all laughed and recalled the good old days of high school and how quickly it all happened. Faster than the blink of an eye we had all grown up so fast. Together we stumbled through elementary school and survived the volatile years of high school. Everyone was heading off to college in separate directions, a day that once seemed so far and distant a thought.

While we talked we failed to notice that we had almost made it to the front of the line. I walked over to the alphabetical section containing the first letter of my last name and waited. The PTA mother attending to the yearbooks took my name and scanned the list with her finger flying up and down the pages. Her eyebrows closed in together as she strained her forehead in confusion. She looked up past the rim of her glasses and exclaimed, “I am sorry but your name is not on the list.” I was shocked because I was pretty sure that I had paid for the yearbook in advance. Before I could say anymore, I was directed toward the vice principal who took my name once again and double checked the master list. My name was not on that list either, and I had no receipt from the beginning of the year.

I may have forgotten to reserve my yearbook, because I have always been known for my inability to take care of mundane tasks. Frustrated, angry, and annoyed I walked over to the student activities office to buy a new yearbook if there were any extras leftover. However, I was soon told by the office secretary that there may not be any extra yearbooks this year due to the overbooking of sales. I could not believe it, I had won the senior class best award for my car in the yearbook, and I wanted all my friends to sign it for future reference and memories. The last high school yearbook of my life and I would not have it. I was shot down and could only blame my own laziness and procrastination for not reserving it on time. The secretary said that the only way to try and get one was to arrive early in the morning before the other students arrived to buy an extra remaining yearbook out of the few left.

After school, I slumped down on the sofa while my mom was in the kitchen cooking food for dinner. She looked at me sitting there with a blue face and asked, “Kee hoya saara khush teeka?” (Whats wrong, is everything alright). I told her about the yearbook and how I somehow forgot to reserve it. Before I could even say a word more, my mom was already calling my Nana, grandpa, to go with her to the school to get me a yearbook. Although I told her what the secretary had said, she still decided to head off and have a talk with her. If anyone could save the sky from falling in my life it was always my mom.

Eagerly awaiting my mom’s return, I was confident that my mom would find a way to get it. She returned with my grandpa without a yearbook, but reassured me not to worry. “Just go to sleep and let me worry about the yearbook,” she told me before I went to bed. Sure enough I woke up the next morning with a yearbook on my side table. I could not help but feel moved.

My mom woke up at 4:30 in the morning to wait in line with my grandpa for my yearbook as I slept. My Nana and my mom waited for two hours in the blistering cold for a yearbook that meant so much to me. I sat in my bed speechless for the type of mother God had given me. I was never going to forget the story that went along with this sentimental yearbook. Twenty years from now when I show my kids my yearbook and the best car page with me on it, I will tell them most importantly about the story of how my mom and Nana ji did so much for me.

I am the luckiest son in the world to have had such a generous woman as a mother. Never has she complained about all she has had to put up with, all she has done, all she has sacrificed, and all she has worked so hard to accomplish in her life to make ours better. She is a mom who would rather think a million times before doing something small for herself, while never thinking twice when it comes to others. One in a trillion is the chance of having a mother like mine in a million births and deaths. For all she has done for me, I can only be embarrassed for the little I have done for her. We have been very close all my life and I admit without an ounce of doubt that I am, indeed, momma’s little boy to this day. No matter how old I will be, I will always be a little boy in the eyes of my mother and I love her for that. Some memories last a lifetime, and some people impact your life for all of eternity. I am forever in debt for all my parents have done for me throughout my life. Big or small I do my best to remember all, and I pray to God that one day I can follow in their footsteps. A huge task to accomplish to say the least.