I raised an eyebrow.

“Good to know.”

We both laughed, but we also understood the ache underneath the joke.

Healing did not mean forgetting.

It meant learning how to live without letting the worst moment dictate every future one.

Miriam joined us for dessert.

She brought the last jar of tomato relish from the previous summer and a photograph she had found in her storage box.

It showed her holding me as a baby in a hospital room.