His Mom didn’t recognize him when he came back home after working 11 years abroad.

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We always return to that mother we call “home”. A home where we recall how our lives were built. A home who never failed to keep us safe and sheltered. Our mothers are the most vivid memory we have of our childhood. They were the ones who held us tight as soon as we came out into the world; the hands that taught us right from wrong; the lullaby that puts us to sleep whenever we feel scared and alone—but we will never know until when they can be there for us.
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