followed her pointing finger toward a butterfly resting on the fence.
And I realized how much had changed since the previous birthday.
There was no chandelier.
No champagne toast.
No audience waiting to judge whether my daughter belonged.
There was only a little girl celebrating another year of life, surrounded by people who loved her.
I reached for Ivy’s hand.
She squeezed my fingers and pulled me toward the flowers.
Behind us stood the building my mother had protected, and ahead of us was a courtyard full of children.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t thinking about the family I had lost.
I was looking at the one I had kept.
