When my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, an unexpected companion appeared at her side. Lucky, a rescued desert dog who had once trusted nobody, quietly devoted herself to my mother's care, bringing comfort, laughter, and companionship during her final months.

I was eight years old when I was told to kill a fly.

I didn’t want to. But I did it anyway.

And the moment it stopped moving, something in me shifted. It didn’t feel small. It didn’t feel like nothing.

What happened after stayed with me far longer than the act itself.