I Had Barely Finished Holding My Son’s Newborn Baby When a Nurse Pulled Me Aside and Whispered, “That Isn’t the Child He Left With”

“The plant did.”

Precise mother.

I loved her for it.

The roses were not the children.

They were roses.

That allowed the garden to remain beautiful without becoming fragile mythology.

PART 70 — THE PHOTO ALBUM

Years later, the family album contained all three.

Lily.

Leo.