On My Birthday I Stood In Front Of Everyone With A Black Eye

pane of glass between us.

He spoke first, his voice cracking. “Mom. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked at him, my son. I saw the little boy who used to cling to my leg, and the man who had stood by while his wife struck me.

“Why, Daniel?” I asked, the single word carrying the weight of a lifetime of love and hurt.

“I don’t know,” continue reading …