I treasured it anyway.

Outside, the evening air was cool.

Marianne was locking the center’s side entrance while the girls argued about dinner.

The world was ordinary, and that ordinariness felt almost miraculous.

I had once believed fatherhood could be measured by financial security and a famous surname.

Now I knew it was counted in years of presence, not moments of spectacle.

I had missed thirteen years.

I could never reclaim them.