“What did you answer?” I asked.
She told me, then laughed when she remembered how nervous she had been.
“Everyone looked at me.”
My heart tightened.
“Was that difficult?”
“A little. But Hannah smiled at me, and then I stopped worrying about it.”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“That’s progress.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Please don’t turn this into a motivational speech.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You absolutely would.”
She grinned and returned to her dinner.
I watched her for a moment, grateful for the sound of her laughter and the ordinary rhythm of a family that was slowly finding its way forward.
Then I returned to my own meal.
Because sometimes, the most important thing a mother can do is not solve every problem, demand every explanation, or stand between her child and the entire world.
Sometimes, it is simply to make sure that when her child finally comes home, she knows she doesn’t have to pretend to be fine.
