Moved to a smaller one in a quiet town.
Big windows. A small garden.
Ethan planted a tree in the yard.
“So it can grow with you, Mom,” he said.
Sometimes, I still feel afraid.
Sometimes, I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.
But then Ethan appears at my door, messy hair, dinosaur pajamas.
“Mom… are you still here?”
And I always answer the same way:
“Yes, baby. I’m still here.”
Because some people will try to bury you early.
Some families betray you with the same mouths that say “I love you.”
But sometimes—
a child becomes the light in the dark.
And sometimes—
a mother opens her eyes…
and comes back.
