A conversation became a joke, then an overreaction, then something too old to bring up.

Eventually, I would find myself apologizing for remembering it.

The records meant I did not have to rely on rehearsal alone.

From the kitchen, Dad asked where I wanted a container put.

“Top shelf, please.”

He put it there and closed the cupboard.

It was an ordinary question.

I had begun appreciating how many ordinary questions could restore comfort after years of being told that asking or answering one was unnecessary.