The air smelled like damp grass.

He pointed to a bright light he called the Rig Star, even though I was pretty sure it was actually a planet.

I didn’t correct him.

“Does Mom still love me, though?” he asked.

“I believe she does,” I told him.

“But love has to include keeping someone safe.

She didn’t do that, and she’s working on figuring out why.”

“Do I have to love her back?”