change. We learned to write things down, answer messages, and ask before assuming.
I still keep the photograph from the envelope on my desk. Beside it is a drawing of a bus with six wheels. When people ask about the drawing, I tell them Alice decided four were not enough. I do not tell them that I once nearly missed the chance to learn such a small thing about her.
The book-fair photograph had made me wonder what life Claire was living without me. The answer was a full one. She had built it through ordinary days, with help, effort, and people who showed up. I could not go back and stand beside her in those missing years. I could put the next Saturday on my calendar, keep my word, and let the twins decide, slowly, what place I might earn in theirs.
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