Exhaustion overtook me and I was asleep in minutes. She woke me up and tucked a clean kitchen towel into my shirt as a bib. Then she put a plate of sandwiches and soup before me on the coffee table. I ate half-heartedly while my mother nibbled at a sandwich to keep me company. When we were done, she picked up the plates and to them to the kitchen. She came back in the living room and sat down beside me on the sofa. I turned to her and began to weep making small sounds that threatened to turn into a cry. She gathered me into her arms and lay my head on her shoulder, letting me cry into the safety of her neck. She kept telling me, “I know it hurts, baby. I’m sorry,” and making other mothering noises to soothe me.

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