At his next visit, he arrived alone.

He brought diapers in the size Paisley actually wore, rather than whatever his mother had bought.

He knew the name of her pediatrician and asked about an upcoming routine appointment.

When Paisley fussed, he didn’t hand her back immediately.

He checked her diaper, settled her gently, and walked with her until she calmed.

I watched from the chair, my legs resting on a cushion.

My scar still reminded me every day that healing doesn’t happen just because someone wishes it would.