I set the phone down and thought of those first twenty-seven minutes after coming home from the hospital.

I had once measured them by how badly they hurt.

Now I measured them by how clearly they showed me the difference between being needed and being loved.

Paisley stirred in the next room.

I went to her without being ordered, without being afraid, and without wondering whether someone else’s dinner was more important.

I went because she was my daughter.

And this time, home was a place where both of us could rest.