It took Camden a long time to finally call me Mom.

At first he watched me as if he were afraid I’d vanish into thin air.

He slept with the light on and kept cookies under his pillow, just in case there was no food tomorrow.

Every time I saw him do it, I hated the people who’d stolen his sense of safety a little more.

One day, months later, we were planting a new tree together in the Portland garden.

Camden pressed his small hands into the soil and looked up at me.