“That night, Stacy cries hard in my arms. I hold her, staring at the ceiling, thinking that no matter the evidence mustered on either side, the case made, there is one thing that an arguing parent and child will always both be right about: You didn’t know what it felt like to be me.”

“That night, Stacy cries hard in my arms. I hold her, staring at the ceiling, thinking that no matter the evidence mustered on either side, the case made, there is one thing that an arguing parent and child will always both be right about: You didn’t know what it felt like to be me.”

— Jayson Greene