It was late spring, about eighteen months after, and it was the first properly warm Saturday and my father was in town, and we took Sophia to a park in Schertz because she had asked to go and because she is at the age where a park is still a treat.

She ran.

She ran across the grass and she fell over, in the way that children fall over, comprehensively and without consequence, and she got up and looked at her knee and decided it was fine and ran again.

My father was on a bench beside me and he did not say anything for a long time and then he said:

“I thought that trust was going to take care of her.”