Saying 'love' is easy. Saying it to mom isn't.

11pm, the phone screen still glowing. The message to a partner runs a whole page, typed without a second thought. Scroll up, and the thread with mom is just a few short lines, the last one sent three days ago.

It's not about being busy. It's habit — the quiet certainty that she'll always be there, always waiting, always forgiving the silence. So the words of love just sit inside, saved for some "later" that never actually arrives.

She calls in the middle of a busy afternoon, just to ask if he's eaten. The reply is three words: "yeah," "I know," "busy." She doesn't get angry. She just waits quietly, like always — and somehow that quiet weighs more than any complaint could.

Tonight, he tries something small: opens the chat with her, types one line — nothing fancy, just true. His hand shakes a little. He hits send anyway, and something in his chest loosens — not because the words were eloquent, but because they were real.

Parents don't need pretty words. One honest line is warm enough.

Maybe she never needed a long, perfectly worded message. Just one line, at the right moment, is enough to warm a whole year. Have you texted her tonight?