It sat on my desk afterward, not as a reminder of what I’d lost, but of how much my understanding of home had changed.

Mark met us that afternoon to take Tommy to his woodworking class.

He arrived when he said he would and asked about school.

Tommy talked all the way to the car, gesturing excitedly about a model bridge strong enough to hold three heavy textbooks.

Before they left, Mark turned back to me.

“Thank you for helping him keep going with this.”

“You’re helping too,” I said.