The day has arrived. Seven years of hell were coming to an end. I graduated with honors. The highest average in the entire graduating class. It was my turn to give the farewell speech in front of the 300 people in the auditorium.
My mom was invited, obviously. I bought her a dress. I begged her to take the day off. I told her it was important. She agreed.
But when the day arrived, there was a problem. A garbage truck broke down on her route. It was urgent. They needed her to cover the shift. If she didn’t go, she’d be fired.
“Go on, son. I’ll see you later at home.” “No, Mom. This is important. You’re more important.” “But the job…” “To hell with work. Come on.”
She hesitated. I saw the fear in her eyes. The fear of losing the only income we had.but he accepted. However, he didn’t have time to change. He came straight from work. Wearing a sweaty orange uniform.
With boots full of grime. With the smell. That damn smell. When I entered the auditorium, I saw how people turned around. How they wrinkled their noses. How they whispered.
My mom looked for a seat all the way back, in the darkest corner, trying to go unnoticed. But I saw her. And she saw me. And he smiled at me. That smile that had sustained me for 25 years. That smile was worth more than all the titles in the world.
The phrase that changed everything
My turn has arrived. I went up on stage. The auditorium was full. Entire families with cameras, balloons, flowers. And there, in the last row, was my mom. Alone. Wearing his orange uniform.
I grabbed the microphone. I felt my hands trembling. I looked at my classmates. At the ones who mocked me. At the ones who made me feel inferior for seven years. And I began.
“Good afternoon. My name is Daniel Martínez, and I have the honor of addressing you on this very important day.” Pause. “During these 7 years, many people asked me how I managed to be the best student in my class.” Another pause.
“Some thought it was because he was very intelligent. Others because he had no social life.” Nervous laughter. “But the truth is different.” Total silence. “I made it because every time I wanted to give up, every time I felt I couldn’t go on, every time the teasing was too much…”
My voice broke. “…he remembered the woman sitting back there.” I pointed towards my mom. Everyone turned around. “That woman you see there, in the orange uniform, is my mother.” Deadly silence.
“She’s a garbage collector. And yes, she smells like garbage. And yes, her hands are wrecked. And yes, she couldn’t change because she had to work until an hour ago so I could be here.” Tears began to roll down my cheeks. “But that woman…”
I took a deep breath. “…that woman taught me that dignity lies not in what you do, but in how you do it.” And then I said the phrase. The phrase that made everyone fall silent. The phrase that made even the teachers cry.
“She picks up the trash you throw away, so you can live in a clean world. And I graduated as a doctor, to clean the wounds that people like you leave on people like her.”
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