Hannah told me the children had been born seven weeks early, had needed respiratory support, and were healthy now with ordinary follow-up appointments.

Elias loved trains and drew little blue squares for windows.

Rose loved planting beans and preferred purple socks because, according to her, purple was the color of brave people.

“What do they call you?” I asked.

“Mama.

Sometimes Hannah when they want to be funny.”

I smiled despite myself.

It faded when I realized how many ordinary mornings and evenings had happened without me.