My 13-Year-Old Daughter Set up a Small Table in the Yard to Sell the Toys She Crocheted – Then a Man on a Motorcycle Pulled up and Said, ‘I’ve Been Looking for Your Mom for 10 Years’

Ava was thirteen now, kind, creative, and old enough to notice when I flinched from pain or barely touched my dinner. One afternoon, I came home from chemo and found her on the living room rug, tongue sticking out as her fingers worked the hook.

I told myself we’d be okay.

“Did you make that fox all by yourself?” I asked, easing onto the sofa.

She grinned and nodded, holding up the bright orange animal. “It’s for you, Mom. I wanted it to look happy.”

I let out a soft laugh, the fatigue loosening for a moment. “He looks like he’d cheer anyone up, sweetheart.”