LOOKING UP at the bold sign of my very own coffee shop, a wave of emotions crashed over me. Just a few years ago, I had been lost, broken, convinced that I would never be able to stand on my own again. But here I was–stronger, braver and finally rebuilding a life I could be proud of.Not just for me. But now I have my son.“Mommy! Can I put my drawing here?” my four-year-old son asked, his voice bubbling with excitement as he clutched his small masterpiece. His bright eyes sparkled with pride.“Of course, my love.” I said with a warm smile.Kneeling beside him to help him secure his artwork in the perfect spot on the wall. When I finally saw what he had drawn—a family. My breath hitched.There they were—five stick figures, their arms outstretched, smiles drawn wide with bold crayon strokes. A sun beamed down from the corner, and flowers dotted the grass below their feet. “Daddy,Yandrich, Mommy, Daddy Nick, and Mommy Ally!” He announced proudly, tapping each figure with a finger. I
Last Updated : 2025-04-03 Read more