My Neighbor Knocked in the Rain and Told Me to Take My Granddaughter Across the Street—From His Window, I Watched My Own Son Enter My House

“I hope so.”

Rosalind smiled.

“She picked you.”

That answer was better.

PART 50 — FAMILY

At seventy-eight, I stopped defining family by relation.

Jason was still my son.

Nothing changed biology.

But Gideon was family too.

Beatriz, in a different way.