“Mom,” she said, “were you ever sorry you didn’t try to get Dad back?”

I thought about the young woman who had signed the divorce papers without begging.

The woman who had sat alone with an ultrasound photograph.

The mother who had spent years believing silence was a final answer.

“No,” I said.

“I was sorry we hurt each other.

I was sorry you missed time together.

But I wasn’t sorry I chose a life where love had to be freely given.”