The Chair Next to the Bed

My favorite place is no longer the garden at home. Now it’s an uncomfortable chair next to my son’s bed.

From there, I’ve learned to recognize his silences, to tell the difference between a genuine smile and one he uses to keep me from worrying, and to celebrate small bits of news that would have seemed insignificant to me before.

There are days when I wish I could switch places with him. I’d like to undergo his treatments, bear his pain, and give him back the peace of mind he had in his youth. But I can’t do that. My only option is to be by his side.

At night, when he seems to be asleep, I hold his hand and pray in silence. I don’t ask for a perfect life; I just ask for more time, more conversations, and some happy memories we can share.

Being a mother also means learning to fight against the things you can’t control. And even though the fear never completely goes away, my love remains seated by his side.