sons
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You rememberedto miss me when you were lonely. You rememberedto apologize when the damagewas already done. You rememberedmy kindness when you needed somewhereto leave your grief. But you forgot the promises. The names. The nightsI cried alone. The wordsthat can neverbe unsaid. Memory is a funny thing. Some people only rememberthe versionthat forgives them.
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They ask me why I keep going. Why I still answer every email. Why I still attend every meeting. Why I keep collecting certificates,signing papers,showing up,checking every boxthey place in front of me. Because they thinkI’m chasing a court order. They don’t understand. I’m chasing two little boyswho still call me Mom. Every parenting class…
Between Bruises and Blooms 