“Can I meet them?” she said.

“Grandpa and Grandma.

Just once.

I just want to see them, one time.” And I looked at my daughter, at the calm and serious way she was watching me, and I understood that I had been protecting my own wound for ten years at her expense, and that she was owed this, that a child has a right to know where she comes from.

So I took a breath, and I said yes.