nineteen.
She needed independence.
She needed adventures that didn’t involve worrying about her widowed mother.
Still, on the morning she left, I hugged her longer than necessary in the driveway.
“You’ll call me, right?”
She laughed.
“Every night, Mom. I promise.”
And for the most part, she did.
That summer, Sophie sounded happier than she had since her father died.
She was constantly talking about hiking, swimming in the lake, and exploring nearby towns with coworkers.
Whenever we video-called, she looked different.
Tanned.
Her hair lighter from the sun.
Laughing
