Casi sat on the edge of the worn couch, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands clasped together. She felt a deep ache in her chest, a mix of exhaustion and sorrow that she didn’t dare name out loud. “Poor life,” she whispered to herself, not because she wanted to complain, but because the words just slipped out of her, carrying the heaviness she’d been pushing down for days. She didn’t feel good—not in her body, not in her heart, not in her spirit. And seeing baby Calvin struggle made it harder.
Calvin had been sick the past few days—nothing dangerous, but enough to make him uncomfortable, fussy, and unable to settle. Casi had barely slept. She had held him through long, restless nights, humming lullabies even when her voice cracked from exhaustion. She had pressed cool washcloths to his forehead, gently rocked him, whispered soothing words she wasn’t sure he understood but hoped he could feel. The helplessness of watching him suffer tore at her more than her own tiredness ever could.
She looked around the room—small, cluttered, but filled with the traces of love she tried so hard to give. A half-finished bottle sat on the counter. A pile of unfolded laundry waited by the wall. Bills she hadn’t opened yet hid beneath a coffee mug. It wasn’t the life she imagined, not the life she wanted for Calvin, and the thought made her throat tighten.
Still, Casi wasn’t without hope. Every time Calvin opened his eyes, even in discomfort, and looked up at her with a trust so pure it broke her heart, she found the strength to keep going. His little hand would curl around her finger, and that one small gesture reminded her that she mattered, that her presence brought him comfort no one else in the world could offer.
She reached over and brushed her fingers through Calvin’s soft hair. He stirred slightly, letting out a tiny sigh before settling again. “I’m here, baby,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice cracked, but there was truth in it—deep truth. Even on the days she felt weak, even when life felt poor and heavy, Casi’s love for him didn’t falter.
She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t know when things would get easier. But she knew she would keep fighting—for herself, for Calvin, for the small moments of peace that still found their way to them despite everything.
And in that quiet room, with the soft hum of the refrigerator and the gentle breaths of a sleeping baby, life didn’t feel quite as poor as it had an hour ago. It still hurt, but there was love in the hurt, and that love made all the difference.
