I zipped up a school bag and felt how many invisible thoughts it contained that were not mine

Dear Delyara, Homework, lunch, a reading book, a letter from school, one forgotten thing shoved in at the last minute, one private note from a friend, one half-finished worksheet, one entire emotional day waiting to happen away from me. I zipped the bag and had that familiar maternal ache. The one that comes from knowing I can prepare the objects, but not the experience. I can send a child out clothed, fed, reminded, kissed, and still not protect them from shame, exclusion, boredom, confusion, or the thousand tiny social injuries that happen in places mothers don’t get to stand. That knowledge lives in me every school day, whether I say it or not.