That evening, after Dennis came home, we sat down for dinner as usual. The small table felt cozy, with the warm dishes in front of us. I tried to keep the atmosphere light, but my mind couldn't stop circling around Jackie and everything that had happened earlier in the day.
I watched Dennis as he happily ate, his face lighting up as he talked about school. I knew I needed to approach the topic of Jackie carefully.
"Dennis, how was school today? Anything new?" I asked, keeping my tone casual and warm.
Dennis nodded, chewing his food. "Yeah, it was fun, Mom. I played with my friends, and we had a good time."
I smiled, trying to find the right moment. "That's great. I heard you met Jackie at school. Do you like him?"
At the mention of Jackie, Dennis's eyes sparkled with excitement. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I really like him! He's nice, fun, and he even helped us with the bullies."
I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, though a tinge of worry lingered. "I'm glad you like him, Dennis. It's okay to be friends with him, as long as it's a good, healthy relationship."
Dennis beamed, clearly happy with my approval. "Thanks, Mom! I understand."
I continued, trying to sound firm but gentle. "But, Dennis, Jackie is your friend. I don't want you bringing me into your conversations with him. I prefer my personal preferences to stay private."
Dennis's smile faded a little, and he looked down at his plate. His voice softened. "But, Mom, why don't you try to open your heart? Jackie is really nice."
Suddenly, a surge of anger rose inside me, sharper than I intended. "You're just a child, Dennis! You don't understand everything. I'm doing this to protect you."
Dennis froze, tears filling his eyes as the atmosphere between us became heavy and tense. Seeing his expression, my heart ached, but I didn't know how to explain my fears to him.
For a moment, the silence hung between us, until Dennis, unable to hold it in, burst into tears. He shouted, "I do understand! I know you stayed up with me when I was sick. I know how hard you work to take care of us, even when you don't talk about it! I remember when we didn't have much, and you carried me to the neighbor's house during that storm. I see how much you do, Mom, but you're still only one person. I want to help you, but you never let me."
His words hit me like a wave, each one piercing through my heart. I hadn't realized how much Dennis had seen and understood.
"Dennis, I" I tried to speak, but he cut me off, his voice trembling with conviction.
"Just because Dad was bad doesn't mean everyone is! You can't be scared of happiness forever. Love is worth it, Mom. Why won't you try?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop them, they flowed freely down my cheeks. I had never cried in front of Dennis like this, and now I couldn't hold back. His words were so raw, so filled with truth, that I felt like my heart had been cracked open.
I stood up, my body trembling from the weight of his words. "I need some time to think," I whispered before walking out of the room.
I went straight to my bedroom, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, tears still streaming down my face. I felt overwhelmed, as if the dam I'd built around my heart had finally broken, leaving me drowning in sadness and confusion.
That night, sleep wouldn't come. Dennis's words kept replaying in my mind. At some point, I got up and pulled out an old box from my closetthe one where I kept photos from when I was pregnant with Dennis and after he was born. These photos held all the memories I cherished, the moments of joy and love despite the hardships.
I sat down and began flipping through the pictures, my fingers gently tracing the edges. I remembered how excited I had been when I found out I was pregnant, and how I would talk to Dennis, feeling him move inside me. Those were the days when hope was still so pure.
Tears continued to fall as I came across the photo from the day Dennis was bornso tiny, with his big round eyes staring up at me, as if he were trying to communicate something even then. I touched the photo, feeling the immense love I had for him, the hope that he would grow up safe and happy.
Tucked inside the album was an old, yellowed piece of paper. It was a note with the word *Daje*, left for me by the stranger who had helped me five years ago. I held the paper close, remembering the moment when I had been at my lowest, and how that stranger had offered me hope.
The note had stayed with me all these years, a symbol of survival and a reminder that kindness exists, even when you least expect it.
I stood up, holding the photos and the note, and walked quietly to Dennis's room. He was fast asleep, his face peaceful and innocent. Sitting beside his bed, I gently stroked his hair, feeling the softness beneath my fingers.
"I'm sorry, my boy," I whispered, my voice soft and filled with emotion. "I'll try to open my heart more, for you and for myself."
Dennis remained in deep sleep, unaware of the emotional storm I was facing. But sitting there, watching him, I knew I couldn't keep living in fear. I needed to be strongernot just for him but for myself.
I left his room quietly, feeling lighter yet more determined. The path ahead was still uncertain, but I couldn't avoid it anymore. I would face my emotions, my fears, and my doubts.
That night, I sat back at my desk, opening my journal. I began to write about everythingmy memories, the hardships, and the hope that had carried me through. I wrote about *Daje*, the stranger who had saved me, and how those simple moments of kindness had meant the world to me.
As I wrote, I realized that life was unpredictable, full of surprises, both good and bad. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let some of those surprises in.
I had kept my heart closed for so long, but it was time to let it breathe again. I couldn't let fear rule me anymore. With Dennis's love and support, I could find the strength to try to open my heart and see where it led.