When I was eleven, my mom left to build a different life, and my dad raised me on his own. He gave me everything he could, and over time, I accepted that some people just drift away.Years passed, and out of nowhere, my mom called. Her voice was weaker, softer. She told me she didn’t have much time left. Then she asked something I wasn’t prepared for: “It would mean so much if I could stay in the house where I once raised you.”
