Colleen glanced at it and smiled without comment.

At home, I sorted the report cards and photographs onto my bedroom floor.

There were pictures of school plays and birthday cakes, ordinary evidence of years I hadn’t known how to remember without pain.

I kept the photographs I wanted and stored the rest.

For a long time I had feared that making peace with one memory meant betraying another.

Now I was beginning to see that a life can hold more than one truth.