What If I’m Not Doing This Right?

What if I’m not doing this right?

I ask myself

on the floor

of the laundry room,

halfway between mismatched socks

and the guilt I carry like lint

on every thought.

They say love is enough.

But some days,

even love feels frayed

around the edges.

What if my patience wears too thin?

What if the way I raise my voice

echoes longer than I meant it to?

What if they remember the sighs

and not the lullabies?

The “not nows”

instead of the bedtime songs?

What if I’m not soft enough?

Strong enough?

Available enough?

Present enough?

What if enough

is a word I’ll never hold?

But then—

a sticky hand slips into mine.

Unprompted.

Without apology.

A whispered “I love you”

from a voice still learning how to say “r.”

A drawing taped to the fridge

with hearts

and crooked letters

and my name spelled wrong

but written with everything they have.

And I exhale.

Maybe

this isn’t about perfection.

Maybe it’s about showing up

when you’re tired,

apologizing when you’re wrong,

and loving them so loud

they never have to wonder.

Maybe

I’m doing this right

after all.