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

That was Florence.

Respecting boundaries while openly reserving the right to complain.

PART 37 — THE LETTER

The morning of donation, a nurse entered my room holding an envelope.

“The recipient family asked whether you would accept this.”

I knew immediately.

My mother.

“I can refuse?”

“Absolutely.”

I almost did.