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Mother is in the living room when I get home. Home? It doesn’t feel like home to me, calling it that feels like i am betraying someone or something. Daffodil maybe, or her namesake, my son, maybe. It feels too spacious, and I feel small and insignificant this living room will swallow me into oblivion. Her eyes brighten up when I walk in. It is foreign on her, for her to speak with her eyes. She smiles, I bet this is the first time she welcomes me like this. I smile back, but quickly pull back my lips as tears threaten to spill. She comes over and hugs me. I do not understand. But I am sure I am not supposed to understand.

There are so many things about this world that I don't understand. Maybe that is my problem.