When I Was Four, My Mother Left Me Alone in a Church—Twenty Years Later She Returned Crying, “We Need You”

Different.

Real.

He became the person who sends me photographs of disastrous dinners.

I became the person he calls before signing anything complicated because he believes church outreach coordinators possess mystical wisdom.

We don’t.

Usually I say:

“Call a lawyer.”

Hannah calls me Aunt Nora now.