Being a single mother of five often feels like running a marathon while juggling fire. My days start with chaos and end with exhaustion. Since my ex-husband refuses to contribute to child support, the entire responsibility falls on me. I work two jobs—one at a local store as a cashier and another managing social media part-time—just to keep food on the table. By the time I walk through the door at night, every ounce of energy is gone, yet there’s still homework to check, meals to prepare, and reassurance to give: no matter what their father chose, I will never walk away.
That morning was harder than most. My sixteen-year-old, Jake, was supposed to walk his younger siblings to school, but the house erupted in disarray before breakfast was even finished. Lily’s sneakers had vanished, Roy spilled juice all over his uniform, and Maddie overslept. Stress weighed heavily, but somehow we pulled it together and made it out the door.
Just as we stepped outside, everything changed.
Across the street, a golden Labrador dashed into traffic. The screech of brakes came too late, followed by a sickening thud. The driver sped off, leaving the dog motionless on the road. My heart sank. Dropping everything, I ran to his side. He was injured but still breathing, his eyes pleading for help.
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