Later that evening, as Luna tucked herself into bed and Finn slumped onto his gaming chair, Margo sat at the kitchen table, the telescope resting beside her notebook. She opened a fresh page and began to write—not a novel, but a letter.
Margo Sullivan was the sort of mother who could juggle a PTA meeting, a half‑finished novel, and a half‑eaten slice of pizza without breaking a sweat. Her two kids—teenage Finn and eight‑year‑old Luna—were convinced that the universe revolved around the rhythm of her coffee maker and the perpetual hum of the old dishwasher in the basement. margosullivan margo sullivan mom getting he
Thank you all for the love, support, and endless advice—keep those diaper‑changing tips coming! 🙏 Later that evening, as Luna tucked herself into