I thought I’d lost that ability.

I hadn’t.

I’d merely spent years trying to make a home out of a place that wouldn’t make room for me.

That evening, I returned to my apartment.

The little lemon tree had put out new leaves.

The mail contained a birthday card from Talia, who had found stable housing and was starting community college.

Nina had left a container of soup in my refrigerator.

Marcus had sent a message reminding me about Sunday dinner.