I remember my daughter running across the first-aid station and into my arms.
I remember her breathing against my neck.
I remember the certainty that arrived with it.
Being careful had never meant teaching Mia that the world was terrifying.
It meant teaching her that her safety mattered, that trusted adults could still be questioned, and that if something felt wrong, she was allowed to look for help.
My mother wanted to prove my rules were unnecessary.
Instead, she proved exactly why Mia needed them.
