It showed three stick figures under a bright yellow sun.

The words were written in uneven letters: “We are all here.” Rachel sat up slowly and held him close.

She was stronger than she had been in spring, though still tired easily and sometimes used a cane on longer walks.

She kissed his hair and told him the picture was perfect.

We made pancakes together.

Lucas spilled flour onto the floor, Rachel burned the first one, and I forgot to warm the plates.

A year earlier I would have corrected every mistake and tried to make the morning special.