A letter written 10 years ago in a grid yellow-listed notebook, but from whom is this… Sitting on the desk in the backyard of my uncle's house, I was happy to see my IQ test results, but suddenly I got a message from my sister. Two words showed up: “Read this”. An album of 4 photos, full of the written thoughts of a person. “I am healthy. My immune system is strong and durable. It can defeat any illness. My organism is a curing mechanism…” *on the next page…* “Every inch of me is hurting. My neck, my teeth, my ears, and my bones are really hurting, even a small bone in my nose. Who would have thought that I'd be in an operation after fifteen days? Could this sickness be so serious...?” *I turned the page once again…* “My darling, Asilbek, I really, really missed you. I missed you saying, ‘Mother, I love you. I will protect you from any harm.' I would give my life to be with you for just one more day. I always ask God to make you a smart, polite, religious boy. Study and work in great places, and be an important person in our society. I will always be with you…” The moment I finished reading, the first “emotional punch” of my life replayed before my eyes. I was six years old, sitting in a chair, confused about why I was wearing a chapan and a doppi. We went to my uncle's house, and I was excited to play with my friends. But then came the shock: everyone was crying and shouting. I was terrified. A woman led me into a room. There, my mother lay still, covered by a red cloth. I felt nothing... or I didn't know what to feel. My six-year-old self, trying to understand what was happening, was mind-blown and stuck in a loop. I was just looking at the cloth. That moment felt like forever, even though it was only a few minutes before they moved me to another room. That day, I slept, not being able to realize anything, but in the morning, everything felt different. My mom used to prepare a delicious omelet in the mornings before I went to kindergarten, but this morning seemed very quiet. Out of habit, I tried to find my mother to tell her about my bad dream, but she wasn't here anymore. With her gone, my childhood innocence left with her. I already didn't know what “Mother's love” meant. Every child went back from kindergarten with their mothers, while I needed to go back myself. Trying to quite my pain, I became a “busy kid” who spent his whole time doing karate, attending extra classes for maths and English. Other days, I'd lock my room and in the evenings to do my homework and go to sleep. I tried not to have any spare time so as not to come back to that pain again. Yes, my specific schedule has changed over time, but not the busyness. And now, leading projects, helping classmates, preparing for universities can be the ways to use the past and get motivation from it. Her words on that yellow grid paper sit at the back of my mind whenever I decide what to do next. I can't answer her letter with another letter, so I answer it with my life!