It was the first time I had ever allowed my son’s disappointment to remain his to carry.

PART 15: The Woman I Was Before I Was His Mother

Nina convinced me to visit the old factory neighborhood where I’d worked when Daniel was small.

The building was now a community arts center.

The loading dock had become a courtyard filled with painted benches and young people holding guitars.

I stood beneath a mural and remembered leaving work in steel-toed shoes, my hands aching, checking my watch because I had to pick Daniel up before the day-care center closed.

“Were you always this strong?” Nina asked.