My name is Sophia. I raised Alexis on my own on a small piece of land outside a quiet town in Vermont. My husband, Jim, walked out when she was five. He left behind unpaid bills, a tired house, a few horses out in the paddock, and a wife and child who had to figure things out alone.
I thought about selling everything back then. Keeping the land meant long days, hard winters, and constant work. But Alexis loved those horses with all her heart. Her whole little face glowed when she brushed their manes. Every time I pictured her saying goodbye to them, I felt my chest tighten. So I kept the place.
I believed, as so many mothers do, that if I poured myself completely into my child, our bond would stay strong forever.
Looking back, I see how much of my own life I put on hold. I thought that was what a good mother did.
My Daughter’s New World
Alexis was bright and ambitious. When she told me she wanted to study business in New York City, I was proud and terrified at the same time. To pay for her first semester, I sold the jewelry my own mother had left me. I remember holding each piece in my hand, saying goodbye to more than gold. I was letting go of my last safety net and some of my memories, so my daughter could chase her future.
In that distant city, she met George. He was polished, confident, and came from money. The first time he visited our farm, he glanced around at the small house, the old paint, the muddy boots by the door, and the horses in the field. I saw the little wrinkle of distaste on his face. He tried to hide it, but a mother notices.
Alexis could not see it. She was in love. And because I loved her, I smiled, cooked a big meal, and swallowed the knot in my throat.
They married a few years later. I emptied what was left of my savings to help with the wedding. George shook my hand, thanked me in a smooth, distant way, and went back to his friends. For the first time, I felt my daughter slipping from me. Not because she had married, but because she was stepping into a world where I did not seem to fit.
Visits home became shorter. She was always in a rush, checking her phone, talking about projects, clients, deals. I told myself this was normal. Children grow up. Their lives get busy. I tried to ignore the growing distance, both on the map and in her heart.
