But my children grew up. We learned how to be happy without Linda.
And yesterday was Amy’s twelfth birthday.
Her school friends, brothers, and sisters had gathered in our backyard. The smell of barbecue filled the air when suddenly the doorbell rang.
Standing at the door were Linda and Richard.
Linda was wearing an expensive coat, while Richard carried an enormous gift box.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart! Mommy is back,” Linda said, approaching Amy.
She gave my daughter a brand-new tablet and told her that she could finally give her everything I had never been able to afford.
I watched Amy’s smile disappear.
But my daughter didn’t cry.
Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
“Mom, I have a present for you too. I’ve been waiting ten years to show you this.”
She turned on her phone and handed it to Linda.
Richard looked at the screen and suddenly stepped backward.
