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

Nothing had been restored.

Something new had been built.

That distinction means everything.

Years later, Hannah asked me for the full story of the church.

She was old enough.

We sat in Florence’s sunroom.

Same old books.

Less lavender because Florence claimed scented sachets had become “commercial nonsense.”