I was kicked out of my house when I was a teenager and got pregnant, but years later they called me again saying that my mother was sick… and that’s how I reacted.
I was fourteen when my mother slammed the door in my face. Through the crack, I heard:
You have shamed our family. Don’t come back.
I didn’t cry. I simply kept my hand on my belly; there beat a tiny heart, the only thing worth protecting. The night was cold, and every light in the windows reminded me: everyone else has a home. I don’t.
A woman found me at a gas station. She was a nurse. She didn’t ask my name or why I was there; she simply placed a warm blanket over my shoulders and said softly:
“Come on.”
That’s how I ended up in a small apartment above a laundromat. It smelled clean and like a new beginning. I was learning to believe again: in myself, in goodness, in tomorrow.
When my daughter was born in the spring, I promised her:
“You will never feel abandoned like I felt.”
Years passed. Work, night shifts, studies… and finally, I became a nurse. It seemed that the past had finally left me behind.
Until one day the phone rang.
—Emily… Mom is sick. Come back.
I froze. My heart was pounding.
