“Can we give him a flower?”

I looked back.

Callum stood at the bottom of the steps, staring toward us, but he made no move to follow.

“Maybe another day,” I told her.

Wren seemed satisfied.

She slipped a daisy into her own pocket.

That evening, after the children were asleep, I saw a photograph from the event online.

It showed me kneeling beside Oliver, helping him plant a seedling.