The first separation
Dora’s first day of school did not begin with smiles or excitement. It began with tears. The moment I bent to place her down, her tiny hands tightened around my dress as if letting go meant losing me forever. She cried—loud, raw, frightened cries that cut straight through my chest. She shook her head, screaming, refusing to release me, clinging like a child who somehow understood that I was the only constant she had ever known. “Mama… Mama…” Her voice broke me. The teachers tried to calm her. Other children stared. Some cried too, but Dora’s fear was different—deeper, more desperate. It felt as though she believed that if I walked away, I would never return. I forced myself to leave. Every step away from that classroom felt like betrayal. My hands trembled all the way back to the sh
- Writer
