I began writing it when she was two years old.
Not for her to r******w. For later, the later that is indefinite but certain, the later when she is old enough to want to know where she came from and how the people who made her came to be the people they were.
I wrote it in the journal, the one I had started in November of the first year, which had become the record of everything. The medical appointments and the legal developments and the coast visits and the headland and the dinners and the conversations and the ordinary mornings that were, in aggregate, the whole thing.
I wrote it over several evenings in the library, which was where I wrote everything, and the words came in the way of things that have been forming longer than the writing of them, fully shaped by the time they reach th
