I named it for Ada, after asking Caroline whether she thought Ada would have approved.

I kept the blue folder, but I no longer opened it every time I felt uncertain.

It held the proof of what had happened.

Proof mattered.

Yet the life that followed no longer had to be organized around proving my worth to people who had already decided not to see it.

On a clear Sunday afternoon, I sat on the back steps watching Hazel, June, and Rose make a miniature city out of sticks and stones.

Their buildings were crooked, their roads went nowhere, and every house had a garden, because Rose insisted flowers were important for morale.