I took in my sister’s little girl after her death, and for 13 years, it was just the two of us. Until the day my niece turned 18 and told me that her “mother” had contacted her and was waiting for a reply.
I’m 37 now, but I still remember that phone call that turned me into a parent in less than 10 seconds.
My sister and I weren’t close, but when she called, I always answered.
She was the one who was reckless. I was the one who was responsible. Somehow, this balance worked, until it didn’t.
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