My son spent three months crocheting 17 tiny hats for newborn babies in the neonatal unit. His grandmother burned every single one in her backyard bin. And then the town mayor pulled up to her porch with a camera crew right behind him, and I watched karma arrive in real time.
It’s always been just me and Eli. His father passed away when Eli was four, and in the 11 years since, I’ve built my whole life around one question: Am I raising my son right?
Eli’s 15 now. He feels things deeply, notices things others don’t, and has never once pretended to be someone he isn’t. That last part, I think, is what bothered my mother-in-law, Diane, most.
His father passed away when Eli was four.
Diane and I live two streets away from each other, close enough that she drops by whenever she pleases, often without calling ahead. Sometimes, she even stays in the guest house next door, which belongs to her.
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