"I love my mom. And this time, I told her I loved her. And she told me she loved me, too. And things were okay for a little while."

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My love for the child asleep in the crib, the child's need for me, for my vigilance, had made my life valuable in a way that even the most abundantly offered love, my parents', my brother's, even Tom's, had failed to do. Love was required of me now--to be given, not merely to be sought and returned.

— Alice McDermott