I pulled into the familiar parking lot of the Meijer supermarket, parking in the exact same row where I had stood crying three months earlier while listening to my husband’s cruel laughter.

Unbuckling Hazel from her car seat, I lifted her into a clean shopping cart and pushed her through the warm automatic sliding doors.

I walked straight toward lane four, noticing with a warm smile that the exact same young cashier was scanning items behind the register.

I placed two large boxes of toddler training pants, three gallons of whole milk, fresh strawberries, and several pantry staples onto the moving conveyor belt.

Hazel had spotted a soft plush brown puppy in the seasonal aisle and was hugging it tightly against her winter coat, so I set that down next to the groceries as well.