To protect every journey, so every child makes it home. Aunt Ruth came and stood beside me and put a warm cup of coffee in my hands and slid her arm through mine.

“They tried to contest the trust again last week, you know,” she said gently.

“Your father found some probate lawyer over in Norfolk.” “I know,” I said, and took a slow sip.

“Diane handled it.

The judge threw the petition out in under ten minutes, with prejudice.

They were ordered to pay the foundation’s legal fees.” Ruth shook her head.

“They will never understand what they threw away.” I looked out over the lawn, at a little girl with blond pigtails running across the grass holding her father’s hand, laughing up at a balloon as it slipped loose and rose into the blue.