Mom’s Silent Questions
Mom’s eyes showed concern, though her words only skimmed the surface. ‘How are things, sweetheart?’ she’d ask over coffee.
‘Fine,’ I’d reply, keeping my voice steady. Beneath our chats lay unspoken worries and unsaid thoughts.
Her questions, though gentle, didn’t pry too deeply. They left enough space for me to manage my end of the deal, shielded from her loving curiosity.
She trusted me, and I cherished our quiet understanding.