What Remains True

by Janis Thomas

Sometimes I hear Mommy crying in the middle of the night. She’s in the bathroom, her head pressed hard into a bunched-up towel so she won’t wake anybody. If I had arms or hands or fingers, I’d touch her on the shoulder. Just so she’d know I’m here.

happiness was not some elusive force that only showered down upon the deserving, but a choice we all make despite the fact that life is hard.