Sometimes it simply changes the name your child uses for you.
One night while I braided the smallest braid imaginable into her short golden hair, Meadow looked at herself in the mirror.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I think I forgive Grandma Judith.”
My hands froze.
She looked at me carefully.
“Not because what she did was okay,” she explained softly. “It wasn’t.continue reading …