with her, including the baby’s blanket. On the kitchen table was a short note. She understood my position, she wrote, and would no longer expect visits or phone calls from me.
At first, I dismissed her decision as an overreaction. I assumed she would eventually come back once life became difficult. But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Neither my daughter nor my grandchild returned. My pride kept me from reaching out, and I continued telling myself that she needed to learn to manage her own life.
Then
