started volunteering several mornings each week at a neighborhood flower shop.
One afternoon, she came home carrying a bouquet of roses the shop had planned to throw away because the stems were bent.
I looked at them.
“They’re still beautiful, Mom.”
She smiled softly.
“What is bent is not broken, darling.”
Six months later, we reached a final divorce settlement through court mediation.
Brandon arrived in a sharp blue suit I had personally bought for him years earlier.
He looked thinner.
He gave me a weak, almost sympathetic smile.
I
