I poured my energy into nursing—into people who needed care, not approval.
Ellis and I adopted a scruffy little terrier named Pickle, who made us laugh daily.
Until one stormy night, the phone rang again.
My mother had fallen.
She needed help.
Deacon? Nowhere to be found.
Still, I Showed Up
I drove through the rain, found her crumpled on the pavement, lifted her carefully.
Took her to the ER. Sat beside her through the scans and tests.
Hours later, my father arrived—wet, shaken, wordless.
All he said was:
“Thank you.”
I didn’t reply. But something in him softened.
