Nia looked into the audience.
“I want to tell you something,” she began.
“People will sometimes judge you by what they see.”
She looked at Micah.
“They may see a baby.”
“They may see a struggling student.”
“They may see someone who doesn’t belong in the room.”
She paused.
“But they don’t see the nights you stayed awake.”
“They don’t see the applications you filled out.”
“They don’t see the bills you figured out.”
“They don’t see the sacrifices your family made.”
“And they certainly don’t see how many times you almost gave up.”
The auditorium was silent.
Nia smiled.
“So don’t let someone else’s first impression become your final definition.”
Micah tugged on her sleeve.
“Mommy?”
She looked down.
“Yes?”
“Are you famous?”
The audience laughed.
Nia laughed too.
“No, baby.”
She picked him up.
“I’m just your mom.”
Micah wrapped his arms around her.
