Daniel chopped vegetables, Paige set the table, and I cooked because I wanted to, not because anyone expected me to prove my usefulness.

Halfway through the meal, Paige looked around the room.

“You know what’s different?” she asked.

“The chairs match?” Daniel suggested.

“No.

Mom laughs while she cooks now.”

I hadn’t noticed.

I was stirring a pot of soup and humming along to a song on the radio.