-2023- | Your Mother-s Son

And she stays anyway.

But 2023 is teaching you that blood doesn’t negotiate.

She noticed it first, of course. Your mother. Your Mother-s Son -2023-

Last spring, she handed you an old photograph: him at twenty-five, leaning against a car that no longer exists, smiling in a way that you now catch yourself smiling when no one’s watching. “You have his hands,” she said quietly. Not an accusation. Not a compliment. Just a fact, heavy as a stone dropped in still water.

You are not him. You know this. You haven’t run. You haven’t raised your voice in anger—not like that. You show up. You call her every Sunday. You are trying. And she stays anyway

You don’t realize you’re becoming him until the moment you already are.

But here’s the truth no one tells you: becoming your mother’s son means carrying the ghost of the man she once loved. And in 2023, with the world burning softly and time moving like a fever dream, you finally understand—you’re not afraid of becoming him. You’re afraid that you already are, and that maybe, just maybe, she sees him when she looks at you. Your mother

It’s in the way you leave your socks on the floor, the same exact spot he did. The way you grumble at the news. The way you drive with one hand on the wheel and stare too long at the horizon. Last week, your mother laughed at something you said, then stopped. Her eyes went distant. “Oh,” she breathed. Not a word. A door opening on a room she thought she’d locked.