Serena Rosette
I arrived in Paris, the city of love, with a deep sense of connection. This was the city my mother had always loved, and it was here I chose to celebrate her birthday every year. It felt like the only way I could keep her spirit alive in a place that held so many memories of her. I’d come a little early this year, avoiding my uncle Sam, who had been calling me repeatedly. He wanted me to visit my father and reconcile the gaps in our fractured relationship. I couldn’t bring myself to do that just yet, not when I still carried so much pain. So I spent a week in Paris, just me and my thoughts.
Saturday was the big day—my mother’s birthday. I had planned a special celebration in her memory. Every year, I made a point of donating money to an NGO that supported causes close to h
