We all sat down to eat.
Eleven people around one table.
Miguel told a joke.
Andrea sang a song she learned in school.
Michael showed off his grades.
Sarah showed a drawing she made of her new big family.
We were all in the drawing.
Teresa.
Her kids.
Daniel.
Emily.
Their kids.
And me in the center, with a crown drawn on my head.
“You’re the queen, Grandma,” Sarah explained. “Because you made us all be together.”
I broke down.
I cried in front of everyone.
Daniel took my hand.
“Thank you, Mom, for not giving up on us.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For finally seeing me again.”
After lunch, Emily asked to speak with me alone.
We went out to the small backyard, the same one where I used to hang the laundry.
“Beat,” she began in a trembling voice, “I know I have no right to ask you for anything. I know I hurt you in unforgivable ways. But I want you to know that I’m in therapy, individual therapy, working on my insecurities, my need for control, everything.”
