My great grandfather was born just 19 years after Dorris is said to have been born. He, much like Dossi for Jenny, has been one of the few constants in my life. I moved in with him at the age of 18, and stayed there until 21. Those three years were the hardest I’ve experienced in my personal life, but I never could have made it through without his consistency. He tells me stories of his life, a life much like Dorris’ was. He served in Germany and France immediately post-WWII, and he hates Paris as much as Dorris did when she first arrived. He loved Germany, and the Swiss Alps were his favorite place he visited while on tour. Reading about Jenny coping with her inner child during the wake of her only living family member dying… her having to care for her own baby while she recalled all the times Dorris cared for her… discovering the truth of her conception and the product of sexual assault that Dorris, too, carried into the world… It was all a lot for me. It’s a beautiful read, an inspiring read. Well worth the time. I feel so blessed to have heard these words just when I need them most.