They Laughed at My Mother’s Bald Head — So I Did the Only Thing a Child Could Do, and the Whole Street Went Silent

What the Illness Couldn’t Take

Illness took some things. It didn’t take her laughter that echoed down aisles. It didn’t take her off-key singing. It didn’t steal her stubborn hope—the kind that plants a flag on the smallest hill and calls it victory. Watching her, I learned that courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s fear, wearing good shoes.