Then it dawned on me: this was how Mother felt. Isolated from family who could help her and teach us, she left when she felt we didn’t need her anymore. She must have watched Bea and me and realized that we were lost causes, strangers.

I thought of the time a few months after Abby was born when I came by to pick up Hilary to go to a movie. Auntie Elizabeth had greeted me at the door. She was in the middle of reading a book strewn with Chinese characters to her infant grandchild.

Hilary raced down the stairs, pulling on her parka.

“We’re not in a rush,” I said. “The movie doesn’t start for another hour.”

“I know, but it might be nice to walk in the mall a bit. Let’s go. Ma, she’s sleeping! You don’t need to read the book to her!”

“Aya, she is listening to my voice. She will learn more this way. Besides, you’re not teaching her anything!”

Hilary rolled her eyes. “My mother doesn’t see the irony in the fact that we talk in English all the time,” she said after shutting the door behind us. “Sometimes she catches herself and starts speaking to me in Cantonese, and then makes me do the same. But as soon as she wants to criticize me, she makes sure I understand by speaking English.”

“Your mom means well,” I said. “I love how she’s reading to the baby.”

“Well, maybe she’s right. I can’t teach Abby as well as she can. Don’t tell her I said that, though. I don’t want it to go to her head.”

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I felt sadness for the loss of something I couldn’t touch but could feel its absence, like an essential internal organ. It wasn’t actually that I was jealous of John. I was glad he had that richness to give Leo. I was angry that the choice was made for me long ago, angry at myself for not realizing sooner that I could have done something about it before Leo arrived.

Sinking to the bathroom floor, I resolved that it would be better for Leo to spend the rest of her time at home with her tato. He had much more to offer her than I ever could. I needed to be more than a mom for a while.

Going back to work was easy. I hadn’t felt so alive since Leo was born. I was in control again, comforted by my competency in my professional world. Although guilt crept into my heart, the adrenalin from standing up in court in my black vest and robes and white tabs, no matter how ill-fitting, was exhilarating.

My colleagues complained about wearing the robes, but I liked how they were supposed to make us look anonymous, unidentifiable, so that only our words would have an impact. It fed my longing to blend in, to fall in line, to have a particular standing. I revelled in the camouflage the robes gave me, seeking to hide in the heavy cloak, but sometimes I would be greeted by people as if I were the clerk in the courtroom, there to transcribe or assist the judges, and I would be reminded that I was not invisible. Still, the weight of the wool kept me grounded and blocked any self-doubt. I was proud to say I was a member of the Law Society of Ontario.