The judge nods, and I turn to the defendant. “Sunday will be my third Mother’s Day without my son. The sound of his voice, how he smelled, and the feeling of his embrace begin to fade. You said in your confession, ‘I hope they don’t hate me.’ I cannot speak for others, but for me, I choose not to hate you. Hate is too taxing, and I refuse to allow you or what you did to consume any more space in my heart or mind. These places are sacred, reserved only for my beautiful boy. And you are not invited.”
J. E. Weiner is a writer based in the Bay Area. She is working on a collection of memoir essays and recently completed a novel.