Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase

The baby started up in the living room, a thin hinge of a cry, and Ethan was out of his chair before my hand came off the table.

He lifted her onto his shoulder and walked slow circles on the rug, patting her back.

He did it better than I did.

“Bottle’s on the counter,” he said.

“I warmed it at seven.”

“It’s nine twenty.”

“Then warm it again.”

I stood at the stove with the flame low and watched my son walk her around my living room.