One summer, a deafening explosion shattered my world and forced my family and I to take refuge in the basement of our small home in Columbus, Ohio. As we waited for news, old wounds among my family members resurfaced, and secrets long buried came to light. Through fear, conflict, and unexpected moments of tenderness, I learned what it truly means to face the unknown together.
I found myself barricaded by three feet of snow, unable to open my own front door, panic clawing at my chest as my family realized we were truly trapped. As the hours dragged into days, fear, frustration, and old wounds surfaced, forcing us to confront not just the blizzard outside, but the storms within our home. In the isolation, I questioned what it really meant to be there for the people you love, even when you’d rather run away.
My name is Anna, and this is the story of the night my three-year-old son became our hero. For years, I lived in the suffocating grip of domestic violence, believing I had no way out. But one night, everything changed because of the courage of someone so small.
