Hello everybody!
Translate to your language by selecting from the box~:
USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
✍️ “Who am I?”
I’m Kim Sullivan.
Single mom. Grocery manager. Nobody’s fool.
I raised three daughters with one paycheck and a stubborn heart. I don’t write poetry. I write lists. Budgets. What’s-for-dinners.
I’m not soft, but I don’t believe in being cruel either. I believe in showing up. In staying upright when the world knocks you around.
Annie calls me “tough.” I call it necessary.
I don’t always understand her drawings, but I kept every one she mailed home.
Who am I?
I’m the one who always answers the phone—even when it’s hard.
✍️ “How did I get here?”
I was nineteen when I had my first daughter. Her dad left before the ultrasound. I worked two jobs, sometimes three. Raised them on coupons, boxed mac and cheese, and borrowed strength.
Annie was the baby. The dreamer. The one who asked questions like “Why is silence louder at night?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, but I packed her lunch anyway.
She got into college. I cried, quietly. Then she dropped out. I cried louder.
Now she’s in Portland, waitressing, drawing ghosts. I don’t get it. But I send what I can. Ten bucks. A winter coat. A text with a heart I don’t know how to say out loud.
How did I get here?
By surviving. By loving without fanfare.
By holding the line for my girls—even when they let go of it.
What has life taught me?
That love doesn’t always look like hugs.
That doing your best is sometimes ugly.
And that silence can mean “I love you”—if you know how to listen for it.
Family & Associates
Annie Sullivan – Friend and roommate.
