I don’t know if this even counts as a confession, I mean it’s not… well, maybe it is. I keep thinking about this one moment, over and over, and it just… sits with me. Like a rock in my stomach. It happened a few weeks ago, maybe a month? Time kinda blurs these days, especially with the little one. My son, Leo, he’s two. He’s just… everything. And my mom, she lives with us. Has for a while now. Since my dad passed, I mean. It just made sense, she shouldn’t be alone, right? Anyway. Leo was playing in the living room, just babbling and making car noises with a little wooden truck. He was so happy, just totally absorbed. And my mom, she was sitting on the couch, like she usually does. She watches a lot of the foreign soaps, even though I don’t think she really follows the plot anymore. Sometimes she just stares at the screen. Sometimes she just stares at nothing. But this time… This time she was staring at Leo. Not like, watching him play, you know? Not with that soft grandma look. It was… blank. Just totally blank. Her eyes were wide open, but it was like nobody was home. Like she was looking through him. And Leo, he looked up then. He made one of his little car noises and held up his truck, like he wanted her to see it. He was smiling. And my mom just… kept staring. Not a flicker. Not a smile back. Nothing. And for a split second, I saw something in her eyes. It was like… a complete absence. Like she didn’t even see a person there. Just… movement. I was in the kitchen, making dinner. Trying to. I’d been working all day on a new series of sketches, trying to get them just right for this gallery show I’m hoping to get into. It’s a big deal. A really big deal. Could finally be the thing that… well, you know. Lets me actually *do* what I’m meant to do. But it takes so much out of me, sometimes I just forget to eat. And then dinner happens, and Leo needs feeding, and my mom needs feeding, and I’m just trying to keep all the plates spinning. So I saw it. I saw her face. And I saw Leo’s little face, just waiting for a reaction. And then his smile kinda… faded. Just a tiny bit. He looked down at his truck again. And I stood there. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t go over. I just… froze. My hands were in the sink, I was peeling potatoes, and I just kept peeling. I peeled that potato like my life depended on it. Like if I stopped, the whole thing would just unravel. And I thought, for a second, about how my mom used to look at me. When I was little. Not like that. Never like that. And then I had this… I don’t know. This flash. Of all the years. All the things. My mom came here with nothing, you know? She worked so hard. Cleaning houses, factories, anything she could get. So I could go to school. So I could have a chance. And I went to art school. And I’ve been trying to make it as an artist ever since. And sometimes, usually late at night, I wonder if she ever looked at me then, when I told her I was going to paint instead of getting a real job, and felt that same blankness. Like she didn’t even see a future. Or a person. Just… a mistake. I mean I don’t even — whatever. It’s not fair to think that. She always supported me. In her way. But that look… on her face, at Leo… it just cut through me. And I didn’t do anything. I just kept peeling. I feel like I should have said something. Or gone to her. Or just… hugged Leo. But I didn't. I just stood there, pretending I didn't see. And it felt like… I was doing the same thing to my own kid that she was doing to him. Just being absent. Because I’m so caught up in my own head, my own dreams, my own… I don't know what. And now I can’t unsee it. That blank stare. And Leo’s little face, waiting. It’s just there now. Every time I look at them. Just… there.