Two weeks later, a large box arrived. Her name was on it, no return address. Curiosity won—I opened it. Inside was a framed photo of her graduating class, signed by dozens of friends. A note taped to the back read:
“We missed you! Maria told us what happened. Being a mom IS something to be proud of. You’re raising three human beings—that’s harder than any title we have. Come next time. We’ll save you a seat.”
