My Granddaughter Called Me At 2 A.m. From An Intake Office

in my kitchen.

I walked in to find Daniel and Emma, now a confident seventeen-year-old, trying to make pancakes from scratch. There was flour on Daniel’s nose and a smear of batter on Emma’s cheek.

They were arguing good-naturedly about whether to add chocolate chips.

They looked like a father and daughter again. The space between them, once a chasm of continue reading …