One day
my children
will be old enough
to ask questions.
Not about court.
Not about screenshots.
About me.
I hope they discover
someone
who made mistakes,
who stumbled,
who cried
after bedtime,
who doubted herself,
who loved them
with everything
she had.
Because love
isn’t measured
by who shouted
the loudest.
It’s measured
by who kept showing up.
Even
when it hurt.
Especially
when it hurt.
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