Growing up with my mom, Elowen, was always something special. She was a hard-working secretary at RSD Financial, a job she had held long before I was born. She balanced her career and home life with such grace, and I thought we had everything figured out, despite the long days and tight budget.
Our apartment wasn’t big, but it was always full of warmth. My mom worked hard, and I admired her for it. She’d get up early, make breakfast, rush me off to school, and then spend her day at the office, coming home to check my homework and tidy up the house. Despite the challenges, she always smiled and kept going.
There were no complaints from her, ever. And I did my best to support her in my own way, though sometimes, like any 13-year-old, I took it for granted.
One night, after dinner, I overheard a conversation that changed everything. Mom was talking to Grandma on the phone, and I could hear her voice cracking in a way I had never heard before. She was crying, something that was almost foreign to me Read more below
