The Day I Dropped My Husband at the Airport, My Eight-Year-Old Daughter Warned Me Not to Go Home. Minutes Later, I Saw Why.

“I thought I knew him.”

Rachel set a mug in front of me.

“I thought I knew him too.

Remember last Christmas when he insisted we all exchange gifts before breakfast?

I thought it was charming that he liked traditions so much.

Now I wonder whether he just wanted everybody in the same room exactly when he said.”

“Don’t do that,” I told her.

“We can question what we know without turning every good memory into evidence.”