Noah flinched.
“Those rules don’t exist anymore, okay? You’re not in trouble, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I gently rested my hand on his shoulder.
“But you’re done living like this. You’re my son, and this is your home. Forever and always. You’re not replaceable.”
Then I pulled out something I had grabbed at the last minute.
A brand-new manila folder.
On the tab, I wrote in thick marker: PLANS.
I slid it toward him.
“This is what we’re doing now.”
Noah stared at it cautiously.
I pulled out the printed pages recommending him for programs and the counselor’s letter.
“You’re going to do whichever one of these you want to do. Okay? You’re going to take the opportunities presented to you with both hands, unapologetically, because you deserve them.”
He looked down.
“I want to… I will. Even if it costs money.”
My heart broke and healed at the same time.
“Good.”
I pulled him into my arms.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be small. He buried his face against my shoulder, and his whole body trembled as he released the weight he had been carrying for far too long.
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