The moving truck left our new cottage, leaving Adam and me standing amidst boxes. The spring sunshine bathed the yard, casting dappled shadows.
“What do you think, kiddo? A fresh start?” I squeezed his shoulder.
Adam smiled faintly. “It looks nice, Mom.”
His small smile meant everything. After Mark’s accident three years ago, Adam and I had struggled. The new job was my chance to give us both a fresh start.
“Help me with the boxes, and I’ll make your favorite pasta tonight?” I offered.
Adam nodded, grabbing a box.
Later, he asked, “Do you think the kids at school will like me?”
I reassured him, “They’ll love you, honey. Just be yourself.”
A few weeks later, Adam had changed. He started skipping class, loitering with new friends, and pushing back against me. When I confronted him about it, he accused me of working too much and not being there for him. The silence between us was heavy.
The next morning, I made a decision. I handed Adam a letter: my resignation. “I’m changing jobs. I’ll be home when you are.”
“You’re quitting your job?” Adam asked, surprised.
“I’m doing it for you,” I said. “I need to be more present.”
At my new job in the school cafeteria, I began to see Adam’s world. His new friends, especially Jason, were trouble. But I didn’t give up on Adam. One evening, I set up a basketball hoop in the garage, something Mark had planned but never finished. Adam and I started playing, a way to reconnect. I made a deal: “If you stick with this for a month, I’ll reconsider the Jason situation.”
Three days later, Adam brought Jason and his friends to play. Over time, the game became a routine, and I made sure they knew that school and basketball went hand in hand. Slowly, Adam’s grades improved, and the phone calls from the principal stopped.
One evening, Adam thanked me, “Thanks for not giving up on me.”
Six months later, the kids had improved so much that the school principal wanted to start an after-school program. Adam smiled, “Does this mean I get to put ‘Assistant Coach’ on my college applications?”
Later, a plaque appeared on the garage: “Strength in Heart & Mind.” Adam had suggested it for me.
As we stood there together, I realized how far we had come. Adam wasn’t just the new kid or Jason’s friend anymore; he was finding himself again.
“You’re my hero, Mom,” Adam said, and I realized that love isn’t about holding on, but about walking through life together, even when it’s tough. “And you’re my sunshine, Addy,” I replied.
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