“She’s beautiful,” I say, and I turn to look at Willa. There are tears on her cheeks. She opens up her arms and I crawl to her end of the couch. I put my head in her lap, and she strokes my hair as I stare at my mother, back from the dead.

There are more little snippets of video. My mother driving and singing along to the radio. An Alanis Morissette song. My mother rehearsing a monologue from Our Town. Wearing cowboy boots and two-stepping at some country bar. Making faces in the mirror as she puts on red lipstick. Coming down the stairs dressed for some kind of formal event. She has on a dark green dress. Her hair done up. “Homecoming,” Willa tells me. “Our junior year at UT.” Then there’s a trip to the zoo. And college graduation. Christmas. Somebody’s birthday. A ski trip to Colorado.

And I love them all. Watching my mother move and breathe is mesmerizing. But it’s hearing her voice that just undoes me. It unravels so much longing deep in my soul. I don’t know if I actually quite believed she was real until right this moment. And now that I know she was, I want her more than ever.

Then there are the videos from Whisper Cove. That last summer. Splashing in the waves. Rehearsing a dance number in the barn theatre. Sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sea porch with Glory.

In that last one, I streak across the great lawn with Cole following behind me. Our laughter rings out in Willa’s living room. I run to the sea porch steps where my mother is sitting and throw my arms around her neck. She scoops me up and pulls me onto her lap, and I feel my heart explode inside my chest. All I want—all I’ve ever wanted in the world—is to remember the feeling of her arms around me. She grabs Cole, too. She tickles us both. Turns her head to smile at Glory. Then she lets us go, and we take off around the corner of the farmhouse. Glory looks back over her shoulder. She waves at the camera.