MY MOTHER LEFT ME BEHIND AT AN AIRPORT WHEN I WAS ONLY EIGHT—WALKING AWAY WITH HER NEW HUSBAND AND HIS CHILDREN WHILE I CLUTCHED A BACKPACK AND A STUFFED BUNNY. WHEN SHE RETURNED, MY BEDROOM WAS EMPTY… AND LEGAL DOCUMENTS WERE WAITING FOR HER.

Chapter Six: The Renovation of Self

When I turned sixteen, the transition from “the girl who was left” to “Leah Calvinson” was nearly complete. Gordon decided it was time to renovate my bedroom.

“I don’t want this to be the room I thought you’d like,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I want this to be the room you choose. Pick the colors, the furniture, the layout. This is your foundation.”

We spent a week stripping wallpaper and painting the walls a deep, midnight blue. We built a window seat where I could read while the Seattle rain drummed against the glass. As we were assembling a complex mahogany bookshelf, Gordon grew quiet.

“I spent eight years wondering if I’d ever get to do this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I used to walk past this room and pretend I could hear you playing. I used to talk to the empty air, telling you about my day, hoping that somehow, the universe would carry the words to you.”…continue reading …