Snow was falling in thick, quiet sheets the morning I pulled into my mother’s driveway in Portland. The world looked soft and peaceful — a lie my heart wanted desperately to believe. Evan, 8, and Lily, 6, tumbled out of the car before I’d even turned off the engine, their excitement painting little clouds in the cold air as they ran toward the house. I followed them inside, brushing snow from my coat. The scent of cinnamon and pine wrapped around us immediately — familiar, nostalgic, almost comf

Snow was falling in thick, quiet sheets the morning I pulled into my mother’s driveway in Portland. The world looked soft and peaceful — a lie my heart wanted desperately to believe. Evan, 8, and Lily, 6, tumbled out of the car before I’d even turned off the engine, their excitement painting little clouds in the cold air as they ran toward the house. I followed them inside, brushing snow from my coat. The scent of cinnamon and pine wrapped around us immediately — familiar, nostalgic, almost comf