I came back from a business trip, and the first thing my seven-year-old son said was, “Don’t go into my room.” Of course, I went in anyway.

then lock you inside.”

I stopped.

Lauren sat beside me.

My father covered his face.

The letter continued with memories of my childhood, advice about motherhood, and a sentence that made me press the page against my chest.

“Love does not always return in the form we deserve, but that does not mean we must become incapable of receiving it.”

I cried then.

Not continue reading …