“I think mine was too.”

Rose did not ask to be called Aunt Rose.

She did not ask to come to my home or attend holidays.

She offered me a few photographs and asked whether we could meet again.

That modest beginning felt right.

I had spent years mistaking obligation for love.

I was learning to welcome a connection because I wanted it, not because anyone insisted.

The first weekend I returned permanently to Maple Avenue, I asked Chloe to help me repaint the home office.