The pen grip that broke me today

I was watching a kid in the intake room fidget with a pencil—two fingers, thumb like he’d never seen one before. Then he tucked it into his palm like it was a secret. I swear, that’s the moment I remembered why I keep doing this: not for the forms, not for the case worker calls, but for the quiet acts of figuring out how to hold something small and real. I made a mess of my own handwriting yesterday just trying to write ‘good morning’ in a journal. Today, I finally got the angle right. It’s stupid. But I’m proud.