In a remote village, in an old brick house, lived a mother and her two children.

The mother’s name was Guzal, and her children’s names were Oysha and Komil.
Their father had left for the city in search of work several years ago and never sent any letters after that.

Every morning, Guzal would take her weaving tool and weave adras cloth,
and in the evening, she would become a mother — telling stories to her children.
They lacked material things, but their hearts were full of hope.

One day, Oysha came home from school crying.
“Mom,” she said, “The teacher said: ‘It’s good to dream, but consider your reality.’
But I was dreaming of becoming a pilot…”

Guzal hugged her daughter tightly.
“My dear,” she said, “On the day you truly dream, even the sky won’t be able to stop you.
Just never stop believing.”

From that day on, Guzal read books to her children every night.
They couldn’t afford to buy books, but the old books in the village library were like treasures to them.

Years passed, and Komil became a doctor.
And Oysha — yes, she really became a pilot.

The first time she flew over their village, she waved at her mother from the plane.
And her mother stood on the ground, in a large flower garden, holding her weaving tool.

There was such a smile on her face —
as if the whole world was smiling back at her.

Mashhura Farhodovna Jo‘raqulova
Born on May 16, 2004, in Termez, Surkhandarya region.
She is a 4th-year student at the Termez State Pedagogical University, specializing in Foreign Language and Literature.