The smell of the ocean, the salty wind whipping through my hair, the hazy island in the distance as the slow ferry chugs along from Hyannis. We ended up flying to Boston, renting a car, and driving up here. There were no direct flights left, and truth be told, it all felt like more of an adventure this way. Annie, standing beside me, her own hair flying around her face, turns to me with a huge grin, then slips an arm around my waist, hugging me close in a rare and treasured moment of daughterly affection. I tilt my head so it is resting on hers, overcome with gratitude for getting my daughter back, for finally being able to be the kind of mother I would like. “Excited?” I ask, smiling down at her as she nods. “I can’t believe we’re in America!” she says. “Tell me everything again about Nantucket. Everything!” “We’ll be there soon,” I say with a laugh. “You’ll see for yourself. Why don’t we go and find Sam? We’re almost there.” * * * The ferry is busy; the snack bar inside has a long line of people waiting to order fried food to pass the time.
