Today started at 4:47 a.m.
Mama was up again, standing in the hallway, whispering to someone who wasn’t there.
I worked a double shift with two new patients. Came home to a broken toilet, a half casserole, and Ava crying in the backyard.
Some days I feel like a string holding everything together.
I carry three generations in this house.
I hold every appointment, every grocery run, every bedtime prayer.
I am exhausted.
I am necessary.
I am not disposable.
But tonight, after everyone went to bed, I sat on the porch.
I listened to the cicadas.
I cried into my tea.
And I wrote this.
Because even if no one ever reads it…
I was here.
I am here.
I am still holding it together.