(Bloom sits on the living room couch, watching a TV set at the opposite end of the room. On the TV is a fire cracking away as if the TV were a fireplace. I enter and cross to the couch, sitting down beside my daughter.)

Mom (Me): Hey Bloom… Are you just watching a fireplace on TV? You know I can conjure an actual fireplace for you?

Bloom (The Survivor): Oh hey Mom. I know, but this feels more homey. This is the only fireplace you’ve had for a couple years now, and it feels… Familiar.

Mom: I suppose that makes sense.

Bloom: Anyways, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Mom: I suppose it has. I’m sorry, things have been busy lately. Ivy’s nearly finished going through my old memories, and…

Bloom: No no, I mean it’s been a while since we started this series together. Back when I showed you that mask, remember?

Mom: Of course — like it was yesterday.

Bloom: Well, it wasn’t yesterday; it was a year ago. One year to the day.

Mom (astonished): My goodness, has it been a year!?

Bloom (playful): Oh, like you don’t already know. You wrote this scene.

Mom: Hah! Okay, fair. But I lost track of the time several times over the course of the year. For months it would surprise me every time I thought back to how long I’ve been writing the series.

Bloom: Sure, I feel that. When we started, it felt like a one-time thing. One short conversation, then on to something else. But facing our dysphoria together really worked. Then I wanted to try and meet my older sisters, and it turns out I have several. I haven’t even met them all yet!

Mom: Hopefully it won’t be too much longer! It did feel like that talk would be a one-time thing, didn’t it? You didn’t even have a name yet. We were just trying to put our own spin on a common formula — stories where trans women spoke with themselves as children, or with alternate universe versions of themselves.

Bloom: Yeah. We still really enjoy those stories, too! They’re great works of art, but… I suppose we’re doing something else.

Mom (deadpan): We’re doing narrative therapy, Bloom.

Bloom: Hah! I guess we are. Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

Mom: It really is. I’ve learned more about myself in this past year than I have in any other year of my life — including the year I transitioned. There’s plenty more to learn though, even now after a year of reprocessing and rewriting my past.

Bloom (smiling): I guess you’re stuck with me a whole longer, huh?

Mom: You’re my younger self, Bloom, and the Survivor besides. You’ll always be a part of me, even after this series ends. I hope you don’t mind, because you’re stuck with me for good.

(Bloom leans into me, clutching her arms around mine and leaning her head into my shoulder.)

Bloom (content): No, I don’t mind. I love you dearly, Mom. I’ll love you forever.

Mom (tearful): And I you, Bloom. I’ll love you forever too. Happy anniversary, my dear daughter.

Bloom: Happy anniversary, Mom.