I wanted to fix it immediately.
Henry shook his head.
“If we always build the landing pad, Evie, she’ll never learn how to land the plane.”
I had laughed at him then.
“You and your sayings.”
He smiled.
“Our job is to give her roots when she’s little and judgment when she’s grown. It’s not our job to become her permanent emergency fund.”
For years after his death, I convinced myself that my mistake had been generosity.
It wasn’t.
Generosity was not the problem.
Love was not the problem.
Trust was not even the problem.
The mistake was teaching people that my boundaries disappeared whenever they became uncomfortable.
I mistook endurance for motherhood.
I mistook exhaustion for devotion.
I mistook financial dependence for closeness.
And because I was afraid of losing my daughter, I nearly lost myself.
