I don’t know who’d arranged for the printing of those booklets, who’d chosen those few words, but I do know that that last word spoke everything
When I was in eighth grade, a teacher asked us to write an essay about what we feared most. I wrote that I feared being told in the middle of class that I had a phone call
“He’s much more okay than you remember. He’s changed.” She says this because I look skeptical. Duvi, that skinny boy, that branded child?
“This journey has cracked me open to my core and nearly broken me many times. In overcoming these challenges, I’m bringing home with me some of life’s greatest lessons”
Greet everyone like you were hoping to meet them here, smile at them, offer a compliment. You never know what’s going on in someone else’s life… right?
As I head back into the house, I feel lighter. I feel validated. There are other “not normal” mothers out there who really are normal
