Colorado.
And for the first time in thirty-four years, mother and son stood in the same room.
I was there.
Caleb cried so hard he could barely breathe.
Laura held his face in both hands and whispered:
“I never stopped looking for you.”
That was when Caleb finally broke free from his father.
Or from the man he had believed was his father.
Six months later, Caleb and I remained separated.
But we were learning to co-parent.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He attended therapy every week.
He apologized without asking me to
