I don’t understand why she came here.
The thought wouldn’t leave me.
It stayed in my head—loud, heavy, impossible to ignore.
What does she want?
Mama said we would talk about it later when Daddy got home.
But I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t want to talk about her.
I don’t remember her that well anymore. Not like before. Not like a normal child remembers their mother.
But I remember enough.
I remember being scared.
I remember being hungry.
I remember being alone.
And I remember that it was because of her.
I don’t understand why she did what she did.
I don’t understand what I did wrong.
But every time I asked—
Mama and Daddy always told me the same thing.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“You are loved.”
“You are safe.”
“You are not alone.”
And they were right.
With them
