I couldn’t recover the years when she needed someone beside her.

I could, however, stop treating remorse as the end of the story.

I could answer calls, keep appointments, tell the truth when it was uncomfortable, and choose my son’s needs over the temptation to appear right.

Those responsibilities were less dramatic than discovering a child on a snowy doorstep.

They were also the only way to deserve a lasting place in his life.

PART 17