ADVERTISEMENT
Her mother’s house was exactly what Tyler described.
One room. Metal roof. Walls that didn’t quite reach the ceiling.
We sat on woven mats as Chenda translated.
“She wants to know why you’re here.”
I looked directly at her mother.
“I know what it’s like to be terrified of losing your child. My husband died when Tyler was just 16. I raised my son alone.”
As Chenda translated, her mother’s expression didn’t change.
“I’m not here to take your daughter.
I’m here to promise that if she marries my son, she’ll have two mothers. You’ll always be part of her life.”
Continue reading…
ADVERTISEMENT