She worked so hard. Dawn until Dusk, she would sit at that desk. I looked into her closed eyes, and her skin was like leather, stretched over a skull. Her smile lines were worn as they weren't excersised much. The deep bags under her eyes, bags filled with worries and strain, were much more visible than they used to be. Her beauty was hidden by her work, glazed over but not forgotten. Where was this 9-5 schedule? She now worked from 9-3 in the morning. How I longed for her to continue to sleep, but she wouldn't. And as she opened her eyes, her smile lines became quite deep and her face, now happy. "Goodmorning, Mama" I said.