My Grandfather Asked Why I Was Walking With My Baby

tell me, I sat on the edge of my bed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“That is a fair answer.”

“I thought I’d feel happy.”

“Sometimes justice feels like grief before it feels like relief.”

He was right.

Because even after everything, part of me still mourned the mother I wished I had.

The mother who would have protected me.

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