Once a year, I take the kids back to Japan. Every time, I feel it's easier to breathe there, and I feel a little guilty about that.

My husband and I disagreed most about the things that mattered most. Neither of us had the energy left to talk about disagreeing. Still, every time I watched the kids sleeping, I reminded myself: I don't regret the life I chose.

When I told him when I'd be back, he wrote, "If we can meet." After that "if," the trip started taking shape, and I noticed I was looking forward to it, a little.