He had told me he wasn’t ready to meet her, and I respected that without asking for a timeline.

My mother was sitting beneath the same window, but she looked smaller than I remembered.

She asked about my health first.

I told her the truth: I was recovering, working fewer hours, and learning to let people help.

Then she asked, “How is he?”

“He’s well.

He has a full life.

He’s thoughtful and funny and sometimes so stubborn I wonder where he got it.”