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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I sit in the driveway longer than I should. Car off. House dark. Little silhouettes moving past the curtains. And I just... sit. Because inside that door is another shift. and I haven’t even recovered from the first one... Work drained me today. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. The kind that sits behind your eyes and makes everything feel loud. The kind where one more “Can you?” might break you. All day I gave. Gave patience. Gave effort. Gave smiles that felt like overtime. I swallowed frustration like it was part of the uniform. Nodded when I wanted to scream. Stayed late because bills don’t care if I’m exhausted. And now… Now my body feels like a phone on 2%. No charger in sight. But through the windshield I see their shadows. Tiny humans who don’t know how close I am to tears. Tiny humans who only know that when I walk in the house feels safe. So I sit here and cry first. Quiet. Ugly. Steering-wheel confession kind of cry. Because sometimes it sucks. It sucks doing it alone. It sucks being the only adult in the room every room. It sucks never having someone say, “I got dinner tonight. You rest.” It sucks being strong when what I want is to be held. I am frustrated. At the dishes. At the laundry. At the math homework I barely understand. At the way my back aches like I’m carrying more than groceries. Because I am. I am carrying a whole future. And nobody tells you how heavy love can be when it’s all yours to lift. But here’s the truth... I whisper to myself before I open that door: You are tired. But you are not weak. You are overwhelmed. But you are not failing. You are exhausted. But you are showing up. And that is everything. So I wipe my face... Practice a smile like armor. Step out of the car. Open the door. And suddenly it’s “Mom!” Arms around my legs. Sticky hands. Stories about their day. And the tired doesn’t disappear. But it softens. Because this... this chaos, this noise, this second shift Is proof that even on my worst days I am somebody’s whole world. So yeah... I cry in the car. And then I walk inside and build a life anyways. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience with mascara running. And we do it every single day.
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