Ira wants to fly.

Abe reads everything.

Romy, who once corrected a woman at a graveside, has grown into a girl who cannot abide a lie and will tell you so, and I would not change it for the world.

Delphie is seven now and feeds her breakfast to the dog when she thinks I am not looking.

My uniform hangs pressed in the closet with a major’s leaves on it, but on the mornings I am home I wear a sweater and watch my children and feel a fullness that ten years ago I could not have imagined surviving to feel.

And there is Judd.