My son once asked me:

– “Mom, is it true you’re going to get married?”

I looked down at him and replied:

– “No, sweetheart. There’s no one for Mom to marry. If I did get married, wouldn’t you be scared your stepfather might not love you, maybe even hurt you?”

With innocent eyes, he answered:

– “No way! He would love me. When you scold me, he’d probably hit you to protect me.”

I pulled him into my arms, gently scolding:

– “Silly boy.”

(*Silly boy… there’s no one. No one would want someone like me. No one would open their heart to love a woman like me. With my moody, unpredictable ways, who could bear that? I’m not perfect—far from it. But more than anything, I’m afraid. Afraid someone might not love you, might hurt you, my precious child. If anything were to happen to you, it would tear my heart apart. That fear keeps me from letting anyone in. My child, maybe I was meant to walk this life alone.*)

Who doesn’t long for happiness?

But how many people truly get what they wish for?

Even for those with a typical life, happiness is hard to grasp.

For a single mother, it’s even harder—because loving a single mother means loving her child too.

It means accepting every imperfect piece of her world.

Single mothers carry many scars, and it’s hard for them to open their hearts again.

But if you truly love one, be patient—wait until the day her dried-up heart finally blooms.