Part 1: The Last Day I Saw My Mother

I was three years old the last time I saw my mother.

I don’t remember much about that day. I was standing on our neighbor’s porch holding my stuffed rabbit when my mom kneeled in front of me.

“Be good for Linda, okay?” she said softly while smoothing my hair.

I nodded, holding my rabbit tightly.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” she promised.

Linda, our neighbor, stood in the doorway wiping her hands on a checkered dish towel.

“Take your time,” she said with a smile. “We’re making cookies.”

My mother kissed my head.

“I love you so much, Addy,” she whispered.

Then she left.

And she never came back.

Part 2: The Week Everything Changed