It was the belief that I could tell everything about my life from the version other people allowed me to see.

That belief was gone.

I did not miss it.

PART 21

On the twenty-fourth anniversary of the day I’d been told my mother died, I did something we had never done together as adults.

I took her on a day trip with no legal appointments, no documents to review, and no carefully prepared questions.

We drove toward the Hill Country while the morning fog lifted from the fields.

Miriam packed sandwiches and a container of cherry tomatoes from her balcony garden.