In my mother’s house.
One evening I opened the safe again.
Not because I needed anything.
Just because I wanted to remember.
Inside sat the documents.
The truth.
The protection my mother left behind.
Years ago she told me something I never fully understood.
“Catherine, love people generously.”
I smiled at the memory.
Then remembered the second part.
“But never surrender the paperwork.”
At the time, I laughed.
Now I understood.
Love requires trust.
But trust does not require blindness.
