Others had been written by Margaret.
There were pictures of me making pies, sleeping on Margaret’s couch, and standing between the two women in a park.
I smiled through tears as I looked at them.
Then I found a letter Mom had written when I was five.
It read:
“I don’t know what I would do without you. Laura asks about you every morning. You’ve given her a safe, loving place to stay when I couldn’t always be there.”
I read it twice.
Then I found Margaret’s response.
“Evelyn, you’re doing everything you can for your daughter. Working hard to provide a home doesn’t mean you’ve failed her. Please stop apologizing for allowing me
to care about Laura.”
I looked across the table at Mom.
“She understood.”
Mom nodded.
“She always did.”
“Then why did you spend so many years believing you owed her something?”
She touched the small rolling pin.
“Because I couldn’t accept that someone could give us so much kindness without expecting repayment.”
