“I don’t regret making the records available.”

On Hazel’s birthday I gave her a small wooden piggy bank.

She liked the sound of coins rattling inside more than the wrapping paper.

I told her, though she could not yet understand, that money should help people make choices, never take their choices away.

She tipped the bank over, spilled the coins across the rug, and laughed.

I gathered them up and laughed too.

For a long time I had imagined safety as a lock no one could open.

Now it looked more like a room where a child could make a mess, ask for help, and never be made to feel ashamed for needing it.

THE END.