Two hundred is the number of my children they say; myself I have lost count. The number is not important. No matter how many children I have, they are all special to me. I can name them all, with enough time, although I cannot tell you where they all are now.
Despite that, I know I have been there when they needed me and if they needed me again, I would be there again if I had the chance. I would never let them down.
Not like I let you down, Mikey. My first born, my beautiful baby boy. I think of you each day, feel guilty but never more so than today, the anniversary.
I should have done more, seen the signs, locked you in your room until you were clean, anything to keep you safe. But I didn't. And I pay for my failures every day, every year that you are gone.
I have not and will not make the same mistake with the other two hundred children - if that number is right - or with any future children. I will not try to be their friend, like I did with you. I will be their mother, at least for the short time that I am given that chance.
I failed you as a mother.
I will not fail them as a foster mother.
We are delighted to nominate the following FlashFlood stories to the 2023 Pushcart Prize: ' The Doll House ' by Nathan Alling Long &...
CHICKEN +50 Buttermilk fried, the apogee of chicken, its chickeniest chickenness, rich gold with bite and crunch and tendern...
In case you missed any of the pieces we appeared during the 2023 FlashFlood, here's an index to everything. Happy Reading! ' They...
A shaft of sunlight fell across the worn herringbone floor, drawing his gaze upwards to the flawless blue sky beyond the row of windows, ...