I waited a block away from the school. I remembered the girls telling their nanny Kerry, that they liked to walk some of the way home themselves. They were approaching an age where everything embarrassed them, but I wanted to be here. No more nannies. No more housekeepers. Just us. I watched them walking together, with another girl. I didn't know her name, didn't recall her face, and I felt a deep sense of disconnect with them. But as they waved to me and hurried towards the car, all I felt was comfort. Like a part of me was complete again.
They loaded into the back of the car as if we did this every day, chattering about an upcoming swim meet and camp. I'd forgotten about camp. This was to be their first year at Camp Sequoia, the same camp I'd spent two weeks at every summer from the ten
