“The sun isn’t done yet,” Lucy said, pausing her hand above the page.

She reached into the cardboard box and drew out a long stick of bright wax.

“Hand me the yellow crayon, Lucy,” I said.

“Let’s finish this sun together.”

Lucy passed me the bright yellow crayon, her fingers brushing lightly against mine as I took it.

I leaned over the table and started filling in the top circle with wide, steady strokes of yellow.

There was no debt left to prove, no mother to please, and no sister sitting in judgment over our table.

Lucy picked up her green crayon and started drawing thick grass along the bottom edge of the white paper.

I set the yellow crayon down in the groove of the wooden table.

My hands rested flat on the kitchen table next to my daughter’s drawing pad.