When my wife and I come home from another day on the job and huddle around our son, it reminds me of a slave narrative.
I once read about a mother who was sold to a plantation 8 miles away from her son. Every night after work, she walked the eight miles to be with her child as he slept. Then she walked the 8 miles back to her master’s plantation early the next morning.
That’s kind of what it’s like. Not nearly as harsh, I’m sure, but on some level, I can relate.