Daniel had helped with parts of the picture while the boys argued about where the fish should go.

I remembered his hands on the crayons.

I remembered him liking it enough to put it on the refrigerator.

I did not erase that afternoon because of a different morning years later.

Nor did I let it instruct me to wait for the man who had stood in the driveway saying he could not promise to return.

It was a memory.

We could keep it in that size.