But I would also tell her that one day she would be able to buy cheese without calculating whether it would cost her son’s breakfast.

She would laugh at a terrible joke while washing dishes with her oldest friend.

She would learn that asking for help and surrendering her choices were entirely different things.

And she would watch her child reach toward people who had earned the right to hold him.

I switched off the lamp and went to my desk.

There was a blank page in the second notebook, the one I kept for Owen.

I wrote about the cake, the laughter, the tiny sweater, and the way he had tried to feed frosting to his toy elephant.