I send money home every month and it's never enough and I know it's not and I feel bad about it and my mom needs it but she doesn't say that and I just know it and it's a lot of money for me and I work two jobs and one is stocking shelves at the grocery store from 10 PM to 6 AM and the other is cleaning offices from 9 AM to 2 PM and I barely sleep and I'm always tired but I have to send it because I'm here and she's there. I left home two years ago and it was hard and she cried and I cried and I promised I'd come back for her and I haven't and I probably won't soon and I feel like a terrible son and my dad died five years ago and it was just her and me and now it's just her and she's alone and I think about that a lot and I see her face when I close my eyes and I hear her voice asking me if I ate and I just wish I could be there. Last week I sent an extra hundred dollars and I skipped a few meals to do it and she called and thanked me and she sounded so happy and it made me feel good for a second and then it made me feel worse because she shouldn't have to be happy about a hundred dollars and I should be doing more and I'm not and I'm here in this tiny apartment with a leaky faucet and I can't even fix that and I'm supposed to be helping her. I talk to her every Sunday on WhatsApp and it's always the same and she asks about my work and if I'm eating enough and if I'm cold and I tell her everything is fine and it's not and she tells me about the neighbors and the weather and the price of milk and she never tells me what she really needs and I don't ask because I'm scared she'll tell me something I can't fix and I hate that. I saw a picture of her a few days ago on my cousin's Facebook and she looked so much older and her hair was grayer and she looked tired and it just hit me then how much time has passed and how much I've missed and I just sat there staring at the screen for a long time and I just felt this HUGE wave of guilt and sadness and I just want to be there and I can't and it's killing me.