A Mother's Mirror
Maya looked up at Sarah for permission. Sarah nodded gently.
Maya took the sketchbook with both hands, her face lighting up. "Thank you! The colors look like the reef!"
Victoria swallowed hard, then turned to Sarah. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
"I don't know what to say to you, Sarah," Victoria whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the ceiling fan. "I was horrible. I looked at your daughter, and all I saw was something that made me uncomfortable... because it reminded me of things I try so hard to run away from."
Sarah crossed her arms, listening in silence.
"My younger brother died of lymphoma when we were teenagers," Victoria admitted, a single tear spilling over her cheek. "I spent ten years pretending sickness and pain didn't exist in the world. I thought if I surrounded myself with expensive things and exclusive places, none of it could touch me again. But today, when that door shattered... you didn't see an enemy. You just saw someone who was hurting."
Sarah stepped forward, handing Victoria a clean tissue from the bedside table.
May you like
"Pain makes people do strange things, Victoria," Sarah said gently. "Some people build walls to keep it out, and some people learn that the only way through is together. But my daughter is not a reminder of tragedy. She is a reminder of how much fight can live inside a seven-year-old child."
Victoria pressed the tissue to her eyes, nodding repeatedly. "I see that now. God, I see that now."
