The day my mom came home from treatment
I didn’t know if I could believe it. When my mom said she was coming home, I felt two things at the same time: happy and scared. We had good weeks before, and then everything would fall apart again.
This time felt different. Not because she was louder about it, but because she was calmer. She did not walk in like a hero. She walked in like someone trying to do it right.
That night, she sat at the table and asked me about my day. Then she listened. I kept waiting for the moment where she got mad or walked away. But she stayed.


