We spoke about the journey, the girls, something he needed to do before work.

I described a small thing from my own afternoon.

Neither of us had a revelation.

Neither of us needed to.

I still had questions.

Some days I was angry about the years we had lost.

I did not know whether every conversation would ever stop carrying a little of that loss.

But Julian kept calling.

He kept showing up.

And for the first time in three years, I could watch him leave without wondering whether he would ever come home.