Not a complicated dinner, just soup and bread and a salad I liked.

I had made it because I wanted to, not because someone expected it to appear.

As we sat down, Trevor looked around the room.

“It feels different here,” he said.

“Different good?” I asked.

“Very good.”

Elise nodded toward the photographs on the mantel.

There was one of Trevor at seven, missing a front tooth; one of Patty and me on a windy hike; and one of Roger and me with our son at his high school graduation.