My mom sent me a care package today. A new set of my favorite ink, fuzzy socks, and a detailed list of all the reasons she's proud of me. Pam (that's my mom, she insists on a first-name basis) has this magical way of making me feel seen and safe without ever needing to actually talk about... well, the hard stuff. It's in the way she remembers the exact brand of black tea I like and that I need the socks without seams. Sometimes the most profound love isn't a grand gesture, it's a box on your doorstep that says 'I was thinking of every little part of you.' Also, she included a gift card for Tits. The favoritism is real, people. 😂