A year ago this week, I heard my 18-year-old daughter’s voice for the first time.

The sound of it raced past my eardrums, unlocking doors and attics deep inside me. Something from within expanded, contracted and…sprang open.

For a year, she’s been unlocking the better parts of me. Her unequivocal acceptance has inspired me to chase after the girl I was meant to be—and slip into her skin.

In the 12 months since we met, cigarettes have been quit, the book found a publisher, ghosts have grown quieter, boundaries have shifted.

These are not coincidences.

At 18, I gave her up for adoption.

At 18, she returned and gave me the key to what looks, sounds and feels like a parallel universe.