But there was a rightness to the transfer that I felt in my hands as I confirmed it, a closing of a circuit that had been open and sparking for three years.

The same amount, the exact same five hundred and fifty dollars, that had gone every Friday to a house with coupons on the table and a grandchild it would not cross town for, now went, on the first free Friday, to the child herself, into an account with her name on it, to wait for her.

I had spent three years deciding that money belonged somewhere else.

I had finally decided it belonged where it had always belonged, and the deciding, more than the dollars, was the thing that made me put the phone down and breathe.