My Mom. A Story by Number 4.

We have these black, hanging wall folder-things from Pottery Barn in our mudroom.

Every day after school the kids empty their backpacks and put all their papers in them for me to look at.

I finally looked at the papers they brought home and put in those folders in the last few days of school this morning.

Our financial situation is seriously stressing me out, I didn’t sleep much last night, I woke up with a raging headache and I was just spontaneously bursting into crying fits.

I wanted the day to be over before it even started.

But then I found this:

 

It was Number 4’s writing journal from school.

I randomly opened it up.

And this is the page I opened to:

 

Again, I was crying.

But now it was for a different reason.

I kept reading.

Oh, Number 4.

I am your biggest fan in every way.

I love you so much, and you will always be my daughter.

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