“You know,” she said while tightening a screw, “I used to think you had to be strong all the time.”

“That’s because I told you I was fine when I wasn’t.”

“You still do that sometimes.”

“I’m working on it.”

She adjusted the focus, then stepped aside so I could look.

A bright moon filled the eyepiece, its craters sharp and astonishing.

I hadn’t looked through a telescope with her since she was twelve.

“It’s still there,” I said.