I worked as a public-school librarian and tutored adults in mathematics on weekends.

There were months when my mother watched the boys while I sorted invoices at a small accounting office after dinner.

We were never wealthy.

There were secondhand winter coats and birthday cakes I decorated myself.

There was also music during breakfast, tomato plants in old buckets, and a standing rule that mistakes could be fixed without anybody losing love.

On the boys’ sixth birthday, I had reserved a table at a skating rink.

They watched the entrance every time the door opened.