Our home was small and noisy and imperfect, and it worked.

But sometimes I watched families leaving the park together: two adults negotiating whose turn it was to carry the backpack, a child running ahead with complete confidence that somebody would catch up.

I wished Mabel could experience that sort of security too.

I worried that the wish itself was selfish.

It was easy to confuse my need for companionship with her need for stability.

I thought I was careful about that distinction.