Of course, there were challenges. Strangers stared. Family worried. I drafted wills and guardianship papers to secure her future. But as the weeks passed, I realized something extraordinary—this little girl wasn’t just surviving, she was healing me. Where grief had frozen my heart, her presence thawed it. My home, once unbearably silent, now rang with laughter. Even my sons, distant after their father’s death, softened when they saw her.
I am Donna. I am seventy-three. And I am a mother again. The risks are real, but so are the joys. My only regret would have been ignoring that knock at the shelter door.