That night, I held Benny close as we sat on our threadbare couch, a children’s movie playing softly on our second-hand TV.
“Mommy, why are you squeezing me so tight?” he asked, squirming.
I loosened my grip. “Sorry, sweetie. I just love you so much.”
He twisted to look up at me. “Is it because you’re thinking about Daddy?”
“Kind of. Benny, promise me something?”
“What, Mommy?”
“Promise me you’ll never let money change who you are… that you’ll always be kind, even when it’s hard.”
His small face grew serious. “Like how Daddy always gave his sandwich to the homeless man at the park?”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “Exactly like that.”
“I promise,” he said solemnly, then added, “But Mommy? Can we still get ice cream sometimes even though we don’t have much money?”
I laughed through my tears. “Yes, baby. We can still get ice cream.”
***
