when she came back

When my mom came to Missouri, sober- I felt something I hadn't felt in years: hope. She smiled like she meant it, hugged me like she remembered, and for a second I was just a kid again- not a caretaker, not a storm. She had been clean for a few months. And every day she stayed that way felt like a miracle I didn't dare name. I laughed for real. Let my guard down. Started picturing birthdays, school nights, maybe even a future where love didn't have to hurt. And even though my scars didn't vanish, that day- they stopped bleeding.