Custody
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Courtrooms count paperwork and allegations; motherhood keeps counting lullabies, scraped knees, and all the care no file can hold.
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Truth was once used like a threat; now she lets it stand on its own without giving fear the final word.
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The boys are coming home, but relief arrives carrying supervision, weekends away, and the knowledge that another fight may still be waiting.
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Some people remember you only when loneliness needs somewhere soft to land—and forget every promise that made leaving necessary.
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A letter to the boy who first made her a mother, carrying years of ordinary memories, fierce love, and all the things no photograph can hold.
Between Bruises & Blooms 