It was a quiet Sunday morning when Cutis, a bright-eyed 8-year-old boy with an imagination as wide as the sky, woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. The sun peeked through the curtains, gently warming his cheeks. Today felt like any other day. No birthdays, no holidays, no big events planned. Just an ordinary Sunday.
Or so he thought.
Cutis yawned, stretched, and shuffled his feet across the wooden floor toward the kitchen, where the faint aroma of something sweet teased his nose. He expected to see his mom making her usual tea or reading her favorite book. But what he found instead took his breath away.
The small kitchen table had been transformed.
A white cloth was neatly laid out, the edges ironed crisp and perfect. At the center was a handmade card propped up against a bowl of steaming rice porridge—the kind Cutis loved since he was little. On the card were colorful crayon hearts, and in the middle, it read in her careful handwriting:
“To my sunshine, just because I love you.”
Cutis blinked, surprised.
“Mom?” he asked, his voice soft with confusion.
His mom turned around, her face glowing with her usual gentle smile, but her eyes sparkled brighter today.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, opening her arms.
He rushed into her embrace. “What’s all this for?”
She kissed the top of his head. “Just a simple gift from me to you. No reason, just love.”
Cutis didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to surprises like this. His family wasn’t rich. His mom worked long hours at a sewing shop, and every penny was counted carefully. But that never bothered him. He loved his small house, his school, and especially his mom. She always found a way to make even ordinary days special, whether it was singing silly songs or letting him help fold clothes, pretending it was a “ninja mission.”
But today was different. Today, she had gone out of her way to show him something that would stay in his heart forever.
He sat down and took a spoonful of the porridge. It was warm, soft, and tasted just like comfort.
His mom sat across from him, watching his face closely. “I made it the way Grandma used to, with the ginger slices you like.”
Cutis smiled. “It’s perfect.”
After breakfast, his mom handed him a small box wrapped in newspaper and tied with string. Cutis carefully untied it, revealing a tiny wooden figure of a monkey wearing a red scarf.
“Is this… for me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I carved it from some old wood I found. You always say you wish you had a pet monkey, so I made you one to keep in your pocket.”
Cutis laughed with joy. “He’s amazing!”
He held the little figure tightly in his palm. The edges were smooth, the scarf made from a scrap of red cloth, and the monkey’s face had a lopsided smile that made Cutis grin even wider.
“Thank you, Mom,” he whispered.
She smiled, then wiped her hands on her apron. “I know I can’t give you everything, Cutis. But I can always give you love. And sometimes the simplest things can carry the most love.”
Cutis felt his eyes sting. He looked around at the simple breakfast, the handmade monkey, the card—and his mother, standing there with her tired but beautiful face. Everything felt full. Full of love, full of warmth, full of meaning.
He had never felt richer.
“Can we go for a walk, Mom?” he asked suddenly.
“Of course.”
They walked to the park nearby, where the grass was still wet with morning dew. Cutis carried the little monkey in his pocket, letting it peek out like a real companion. As they walked, he told stories of grand monkey adventures, each one crazier than the last, and his mom laughed until she had to wipe tears from her eyes.
They stopped under a shady tree. Cutis climbed halfway up and shouted, “This is Monkey Mountain!”
His mom clapped. “You’re the bravest explorer I’ve ever seen!”
Later, they sat in the grass and watched the clouds drift. Cutis leaned against her, holding her hand.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why today?”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, “Because sometimes, we wait for special occasions to show love. But love doesn’t wait. It doesn’t need a holiday. I wanted you to feel special today because you are, every single day.”
Cutis didn’t answer right away. He just closed his eyes and squeezed her hand tighter.
The rest of the day was simple: they went home, did a little cleaning together, then played a board game on the floor with missing pieces, improvising new rules and laughing the whole time. At night, she read him a story—the same one she’d read a hundred times—but tonight, it felt new again.
When she kissed him goodnight and turned off the light, Cutis whispered, “This was the best day ever.”
And he meant it.
Not because of a toy or a trip or anything big.
But because love had filled every corner of the day. A special kind of love that didn’t cost anything, didn’t come in a shiny box, but wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket. The kind of love that’s quiet, steady, and powerful.
The kind of love only a mom could give.
