Outside, the snow reflected the porch light.

We worked quietly for a while, listening to the faint hum of the refrigerator and the old clock in the hallway.

Ruth asked how I felt.

I told her I was happy, but also sad.

A good Christmas did not undo a bad one.

It could not return the years I had spent treating money as a substitute for open conversation, or erase the way Daniel had looked at me while closing the door.

Yet I had seen him change in ways that mattered.