"Listen to me," I said, taking his small hands in mine. They were cold despite the mild morning, and I could feel the fine tremor that meant he was trying very hard not to cry. "You need to stay here and take care of Mother. She's going to need someone strong and brave to help her while I'm away."
"But I want to take care of you too," he whispered, and the last of my composure threatened to crumble entirely.
"You are taking care of me," I said softly. "By being safe, by being good, by making sure our family stays together. That's the most important job anyone could have."
He searched my face with the intensity of a child trying to understand adult decisions that made no sense. "Will you come back?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. I could lie, paint pretty pictures of tem
