Gemotions

The worn paper felt fragile in her hands. The letter, penned in elegant cursive, was addressed to her children, detailing her hopes and fears for their future. It was a letter written out of guilt, of a desire for connection. She had never sent it.

She’d always felt like she hadn’t been a good enough mother, that she had failed them in ways she couldn’t articulate. She reread the words, now softened by time, by her own personal growth. The weight in her chest lifted.

She had done her best. Her children were happy. She was present and loving. It was enough. A soft smile graced her face. The tension, finally, dissolved.