I used to think “home” was something you outgrew. I built a life where no one asked if I was happy, only if I was reliable. By 31, I was a Regional Director—always traveling, always “fine.” Then the call came, and everything stopped.
“It was a stroke, honey. There was nothing the doctors could do. It’s better this way… your mom went with everything intact until the end.”
I barely remember the flight. I only remember counting breaths and whispering her name like a prayer I didn’t believe in. My hands shook as I signed the rental car papers, and I sat outside our old house too long, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.....
