It was being able to ask for help.
It was adults admitting when they were wrong.
It was a child knowing she never had to carry a family secret alone.
It was giving people room to change without withdrawing your love.
And sometimes it was simply making certain that when someone you loved finally found the road home, there were lights on when they arrived.
Ava suddenly looked up from her homework.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“Did you know Mom lets me have two free samples?”
I looked at Melissa.
She smiled innocently.
I pointed toward the bakery.
“I knew this would happen.”
Melissa laughed.
“You missed me.”
For seven years, I would have given anything to hear my daughter tease me again.
Now I pretended to be annoyed.
“That remains under review.”
She came around the counter and kissed my cheek.
“I missed you too, Dad.”
Outside, afternoon sunlight moved through the branches of the oak tree.
