I kiss Mom’s hand and lay it on the bed. When I try to let go, she tightens her grip. My eyes flash to hers; she has more life in them than I’ve seen in a long time. She looks lucid for the first time in weeks. Or maybe even years. “I’m sorry, Evie,” she croaks. “I wasn’t the mother to you that I should have been. You’re beautiful just the way you are. You have one of the kindest souls. Don’t ever lose that. I love you.” “Oh, Mama,” I cry, wrapping my arms around her. She wraps her frail arms around me and hugs me tight. I can’t remember the last time she hugged me. “I love you, too.”
