My mom was barely out of her own childhood when mine began. While other teens planned weekends, college visits, and social events, she was learning to stretch a paycheck, juggle work, and keep a roof over our heads. My biological father left early, and with that one exit, her life shifted into survival mode.
She never spoke of sacrifice—she just did it. Night after night, she studied for her GED after long shifts, building a stable life through sheer grit and determination, the kind you only fully appreciate when you’re older.
By the time I reached senior year, prom season was everywhere—dresses, limos, photos, “the big night.” For most, it’s a celebration. For my mom, it was a night life never gave her the chance to enjoy.
So one evening at the kitchen table, I asked her a question that even surprised me:
