Vulnerable

I was indecent in the beginning. I supported myself and did my best at seven years old with an uncaring mother.

Then she brought him home.

I was told that mommy was having another baby. I thought I would feel sorry for the kid at most; it was going to be in the same position as me.

Then my mother walked through the door, a little boy in the basket dangling off her arm. She set it down and picked the boy up. Smiling at me, she let me hold him.

The moment he settled in my arms, I knew there was nothing left for it. I couldn't feel pity, because I would make sure that he never lived the same. He would be loved, he would eat, he would do better than me.

As I promised myself this, he blinked open his eyes, like a cute kitten. He was nameless as of then. As I held him, I whispered, "Keeghan," so that's what's on the certificate of birth now.

My mother couldn't be bothered to name him. Just as she couldn't be bothered to notice her daughter raised her son.

I might be a bit full of pride, but I raised him better than she ever raised me.