Chapter 20
“About keeping it?” “Yes.” “I can't afford half the maintenance forever.” “You technically can. Ruth left the account.” “Eventually it runs out.” “So we rent it occasionally.” “To strangers?” “Nice strangers.” “How do we verify they're nice?” “Extensive frog-based screening.”
I laughed. Then I thought about it seriously. “What if we didn't keep it only for ourselves?”
Mara turned. “What do you mean?”
“Mom said Aunt Ruth believed every woman in our family should have a door.” “Yes.” “What if the door could be wider than our family?”
Mara studied me. “Like what?” “I don't know yet.”
That became our beginning.
My daughter was born seven weeks later. We named her Ruth Claire.
Mara objected to Claire's placement. “I saved the bassinet from becoming a laundry rack.” “You nearly electrocuted yourself changing a lightbulb.” “The wiring was suspicious.” “It was the bulb.” “History is written by winners.”
Claire, the actual Claire, stood beside the hospital window holding a bouquet and laughing. Mom sat in a chair with baby Ruth asleep in her arms.
May you like
The room felt full without feeling crowded. For the first time in months, I looked at my life and didn't measure it by what was missing. My marriage. My old home. The future I thought I was supposed to have.
Instead, I saw what was present. My mother. My sister. My friend. My daughter. And me. That last inclusion had taken the longest.
