So had my love for Kenneth at one time.

None of those truths required me to return to a life that had become dishonest.

At sunrise, I made breakfast and opened the kitchen windows.

Rosemary scented the air beside my mother’s recipe book.

I called Laura and asked whether she wanted to come over on Sunday.

She said yes and asked what we were celebrating.

“Nothing special,” I told her.

“I just want to have people I love around the table.”