down the stage steps toward me.
I met him with tears on my face.
“Mason,” I whispered. “My God, Mason.”
He hugged me tightly.
“I told you I’d handle it, Mom.”
And in that moment, I finally understood.
My son had never been weak.
He had been patient.
And the bravest thing I could do as his mother was stop trying to save him long enough to see that he was already saving himself.
