“Mama!

Look!”

He held up a paper airplane that had somehow survived three crash landings.

I crouched and admired it as though it were a masterpiece.

Frank signed “fly” to him, moving his hand gently through the air.

Theo copied the motion, laughing.

I watched them together and remembered the hospital room, the threats, the sheet of paper Colton wanted me to sign, and the lighter that had silenced Harold for a moment.

That moment had not fixed our lives.