I wanted to wrap my arms around Imonie and bury my face in her dress, to breathe her in as I had done as a child. Oh, how she had loved me, the granddaughter she could not claim in word because of her and my father’s secrets, but she had claimed me in love. And that love had given me a warm, safe childhood, despite the pain of my parents’ separation. That love had clothed me and fed me and raised me, protected me.
