I just… I don't even know why I'm writing this down, it’s just me and this screen, but it feels like I need to say it to someone, anyone. The kids are asleep, finally, after another day of… well, being kids, you know? And I’m just sitting here, looking at my phone, seeing my mom’s name in my contacts, and I just can’t bring myself to call her. She’s alone, I know she is. Out there in that big house, all by herself. And I keep thinking about her, how quiet it must be for her, and then I look at my living room, strewn with toys, half-eaten snacks, art projects everywhere, and I think about how LOUD it is here, how constant. And I feel this… pull, you know? Like I should be there for her, really *be* there. Especially now that I don't have… well, now that I’m not going to the office every day. My days are just… empty in a way they never were before. And I used to just *go*, you know? Every morning, that was my thing. And now it’s just… this. And the kids, they need me. Of course they do. They’re little. And I'm here, I’m present, I'm doing all the things. But then I hear my mother's voice in my head, asking me when I'm coming over, asking if I remember that one time, bringing up things from forever ago, and I just… I feel like I'm failing everyone. I mean, my mother raised me, she did all this for me, and now she’s just… waiting. And I'm here, wiping sticky counters, reading the same story for the tenth time, and I just want to scream sometimes, or just… disappear for a minute. But then I see their little faces, asking for a hug, and it’s like a punch to the gut. How can I even think about leaving them to go sit with her, listen to the same stories, just to make *her* feel less alone? It feels selfish, somehow. Or maybe it’s selfish to *not* go. I don't even know anymore. I mean, I spent my whole life… being someone else, really. Being the person at work, the one who handled things, the one with the answers. And now it’s just… me. And I don’t know who that is without that. And now all this, with my mom and the kids, it just feels like… too much. Like I'm supposed to be two different people at once, and I can barely be one. And she just keeps calling, and I keep letting it go to voicemail. I know it’s wrong. I do. But I just don't have it in me right now. I don't. And I keep telling myself I'll call her tomorrow, or the day after. But then tomorrow comes, and it’s just another day of… everything. And I’m still here, making sure everyone else is okay, but I don’t even know who’s looking out for me. Or if anyone should be. Whatever.