I shook myself out of the memory, standing on the sidewalk just beyond Mrs. Carter's porch. The weight of those early days still lingered, but I smiled to myself. If anyone had told me that the terrified boy she'd found would one day call her "Mom," I wouldn't have believed them.
Mrs. Carter wasn't just the woman who took me in; she became my everything. My best friend, my guardian, and my guiding star. She didn't just provide a roof over my head—she gave me hope, a reason to keep breathing when it felt impossible.
She'd sit with me during my worst panic attacks, holding my hand and talking me through every sharp breath. "Breathe with me, Han," she'd say. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it. Keep going, baby."
And when I didn't have the words to explain the chaos in my mind, she'd tell me it was okay. "You don't have to talk today, but when you're ready, I'll be here."
She struggled sometimes. I knew she did. Raising a traumatized kid on her own, working long hours, and still finding time to help me with my studies—it wasn't easy. But she never showed her exhaustion. And when it became my last year of Highschool, she made it clear she'd do whatever it took to make sure I Graduate.
"You're gonna be someone," she'd said, her voice thick with pride. "And when you do, you better not forget your old mama."
As if I ever could.
Before leaving, I turned back and jogged up the porch steps. Mrs. Carter was already watching me, one hand on her hip, the other holding her mug.
"What you need now, boy? You better not be asking me for lunch money again."
I grinned, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. She huffed in mock annoyance but patted my back.
"Bye, Mom," I said, my voice soft.
"Bye? You ain't going off to war; you're going to school!" she replied, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
I kissed her cheek playfully, then her forehead, then her other cheek. She tried to bat me away, laughing. "Han, stop that mess! You trying to slobber all over me?"
"Can't help it. You're too cute," I teased.
"Cute? Lord, this boy done lost his mind."
As we shared that moment, a loud voice interrupted from across the street.
"Hey, leave that woman alone!"
I turned to see Marcus, the neighborhood's self-proclaimed protector and my best friend, standing on the curb. At nineteen, he was tall and built like a linebacker, his deep voice carrying easily across the morning air.
"Mind your business, Marcus!" I shouted back, smirking.
"You are my business," he retorted, swaggering over. "What's a twig like you doing kissing on her like that? She don't even look like you!"
Mrs. Carter laughed, shaking her head. "Marcus, stop stirring the pot. You know I've claimed this boy."
"Claimed? He look more like a stray cat you picked up," Marcus said, grinning as he dodged the half-hearted swat I aimed at him.
"You're just jealous because I'm prettier than you," I shot back.
"Boy, ain't nobody jealous of your skinny self."
"Alright, that's enough," Mrs. Carter interjected, still smiling. "Marcus, you better watch your mouth before I send you home hungry."
"Now, Mrs. Carter, you know I ain't messing with you," Marcus said, suddenly all charm as he leaned in to kiss her hand. "Good morning, beautiful."
She laughed, waving him off. "Good morning, child. Now go on before you two make me late for my stories."
As Marcus and I started down the street, I glanced back to see Mrs. Carter still standing on the porch, watching us with that warm, maternal smile.
"She really loves you, you know," Marcus said, his tone unusually serious.
"I know," I replied, my voice soft. "I love her too."
He nodded, then bumped my shoulder playfully. "Alright, enough of the sappy stuff. Let's get to school before I leave your slow self behind."
I grinned, shoving him lightly. We didn't look like we belonged in the same neighborhood, let alone the same family. But Mrs. Carter had taught me that love wasn't about blood—it was about choosing someone, day after day.
And for that, I'd always be grateful.