She glanced at Lisa, her adopted daughter, whose gaze was fixed on the road.

Margaret had taken her into her home when she was just 7, a quiet girl with a solemn gaze who had seen too much sadness.

Now, at 42, Lisa had grown into a serene woman with a gentle strength that reminded Margaret of the oak tree in the backyard.

The one who had weathered countless storms, yet still stood tall. “Are you comfortable, Mom?