I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

asked what to call you.”

I smiled.

“She already calls me Nana.”

“I know. But she asked if Nana is family.”

My throat closed.

Rachel stepped closer.

“I told her yes.”

I looked at her.

She was crying again.

So was I.

“I told her family is who stays,” Rachel said. “And who comes back correctly when they were wrong. And who loves you continue reading …