I could, however, answer the next call.

Keep the next appointment.

Listen to the next question.

Remember the ordinary things: blue trains, purple flowers, the smell of damp soil after rain.

At seven that night, Rose called to report that one of her bean plants had produced a new leaf.

She talked for five minutes while Elias shouted advice in the background.

“Daddy,” she said at last, “will you come see it on Thursday?”

I closed my office laptop. “Yes, sweetheart,” I told her.

“I’ll be there.”

And this time, I was.