I somehow turned that into the right to control things.

But I wasn’t even providing what mattered.”

We sat together for a while.

I did not tell him everything was forgiven.

Forgiveness, if it came, would not arrive like a switch being flipped.

At home we made vegetable soup from Marian’s handwritten recipe, burned the bread slightly, and laughed because Mom would have had a comment about both.

Later Lucas washed the dishes while I called her.

It was an ordinary anniversary.