Nolan kept his fascination with the stars.

He covered the ceiling of his new bedroom with glow-in-the-dark planets and talked on and on about engineering a ship that could go farther than anyone ever had.

Eventually, the navy-blue shirt became too small. When it did, Nolan asked me not to put it in the donation bin.

Instead we took it to a craft store and placed it in a simple, elegant wooden frame, folding the bottom hem upward and pinning it so the blue marker stayed permanently visible beneath the silver embroidered moon.

MY MOM MAKES OUR SMALL HOME FEEL LIKE THE WHOLE WORLD.

We hung it in the hallway of our new home.

Nolan wanted to hang it himself. He was tall enough by then to reach the hook without the step stool, and he spent a long minute adjusting it a quarter-inch at a time until the frame sat level, the moon centered, the blue marker catching the light from the window at the end of the hall.