responsibility.
If Adrian and his mother argued, I tried to calm them.
If Tiffany needed money, I found a solution.
If Beatrice felt excluded, I invited her.
If Gerald seemed uncomfortable, I changed the subject.
If somebody complained about my boundaries, I moved them.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until eventually there weren’t many boundaries left.
After the divorce, I kept my company.
My grandfather’s house.
My surname.
My accounts.
My life.
People assumed the most satisfying part must have been keeping the money.
It wasn’t.
Money mattered.
Of course
