This year, Mother’s Day looked a little different.
I didn’t spend it with breakfast in bed or handmade cards. I spent it with my mother—making sure she had her favorite foods and soaking up the quiet joy of simply being with her. Because honestly? We don’t know how many more of these moments we’ll get.
And that got me thinking about the mothers I’ve been writing about: Clara. Maggie. Treva.
Mothers who’ve endured heartbreak, betrayal, exhaustion, and grief. Women who’ve carried more than they...