It was a simple message.

It mattered because it was exactly what he said it was.

I bought the novel and sat by the bookstore window for forty-five minutes.

No one needed me during those minutes.

I could breathe without listening for a cry.

Later I called Tessa.

“I’m feeling guilty because I liked having time alone,” I admitted.

“You are a mother, not a piece of furniture that has to remain beside the nursery,” she said.