September 3, 2026

Standing on the Worn Doorstep of My Childhood Home as My Mother Returns After Years of Silence, Seeking Something I Cannot Name

It requires acknowledgment of what was lost.

Of what was taken.

But she’s never been good at that.

Her hands fidget, fingers twisting together in her lap as if they too are searching for something to hold.

Perhaps she recognizes the futility in it all, the weight of years that can’t be undone.

There’s a part of me that wants to reach out, to bridge the gap between us.

But I hold back, unsure if I can.

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