After the call, I found him in the backyard.

He’d taken the old toy chest outside.

He was sorting through the little cars, drawings, and stones he’d collected over the years.

The repaired hinge caught the sunlight.

One blue-painted panel had a visible seam.

He ran his fingers across it.

“Mom, do you think Aunt Sarah would be mad we broke it?”

I sat beside him.

“We didn’t break it.”

He looked up.