In the beautiful village of Ikot Abasi, my childhood was filled with joy, friendship, and football. Every day, my friends and I gathered at the village square, our special spot to play.
With our bare feet and our hearts full of excitement, we chased the ball through the streets. Each game was an adventure, testing our skills and passion for the sport.
But one day, during a game, I collided with another player and hurt my leg badly. I lay on the ground, feeling pain and disappointment. I worried I might never play football again.
But through it all, my mom was there for me, comforting me and taking care of me. She stayed by my side every step of the way.
For three weeks, I stayed in bed, my leg wrapped in bandages. But with my mom's love and care, I started to feel better. Even though I couldn't play football anymore, I found strength in my mom's support. She spent so much time with me praying that I will recover soon and be able to play ball again.
As I healed, I realized that while I might not play football again, the memories and the love of my mom would stay with me forever. With her by my side, I knew I could overcome anything life threw my way.
