Chloe watched the snowless December streets through the window, a small paper bag on her lap.

Elena had gathered her drawings, her inhaler, and the stuffed rabbit she always slept beside.

Everything else could wait.

At a traffic light Chloe asked why we were leaving before dessert.

I told her Grandma and Grandpa had made some unkind choices and that I needed time to decide how to keep our home peaceful.

“Are Paisley and Harper coming?” she asked.

“Not tonight.” She thought about this, then asked whether she still got to open the present under our own tree.