Jaylen, a bright-eyed African American boy of ten, sits at the edge of his bed tying his sneakers, glancing at a framed photo of his mother on the nightstand. He hears the gentle clatter of dishes and his mother’s soft humming from the next room, filling the apartment with warmth. Today is the fifth-grade science fair, and nerves flutter in his stomach like caged butterflies.
Mrs. Carter, Jaylen’s mother, stands over the stove flipping pancakes, her hair tied back in a loose scarf. She turns, her eyes bright, and notices Jaylen’s anxious expression. "Big day, huh? I made your favorite—banana pancakes. Want to talk about your project before school?" Jaylen takes a seat, watching his mother with admiration, wishing he could borrow just a fraction of her confidence.
Jaylen walks beside Mrs. Carter, clutching a cardboard volcano. He hesitates at the steps, nerves threatening to overwhelm him. "Remember," she kneels to meet his eyes, "you worked hard. You’re more than ready, and I’ll be cheering for you, okay? If you ever get scared, just look for me in the crowd." Jaylen nods, the warmth of her words steadying his heart.
He stands by his display, watching other kids with their fathers fussing over last-minute details. Jaylen’s gaze drifts, a pang of longing in his chest. But then, across the room, he spots Mrs. Carter waving, her smile wide and proud. "My mom’s here," he whispers to himself, straightening his shoulders.
Jaylen clutches his ribbon, eyes shining as Mrs. Carter races to hug him tight. "You did it, baby! I told you, you’re unstoppable," she exclaims, tears glistening in her eyes. Jaylen beams, feeling a surge of pride—not just for the ribbon, but for the hero who never let him doubt himself.
"Mom, do you ever get scared?" he asks quietly. "Sometimes, but I always remember I have you. We lift each other up, right?" Jaylen nods, resting his head on her shoulder. In that moment, he knows he may not have a father, but he has something even greater—a mother who will always be his hero.
