Remember when you told me we were just going to take it one day at a time?” “I remember.” “I think we’re getting pretty good at it.” “I think so too,” I said.

After he went to his room to build a model rocket, I did a small thing I had not been able to do for a long time.

I filled the kettle, took down a plain white mug, and made myself a cup of chamomile tea.

For months the sight of a warm mug had closed my throat.

I had switched to cold water, to coffee I let go cold, to anything that did not steam and smell of herbs.

But standing at my own counter in my own bright kitchen, I decided I was not going to let Dario keep that too.