Those talks did not erase the baby shower.
Nothing erases a public humiliation completely.
But they changed the shape of what came after it.
One evening, Kyle asked if he could see the blanket again.
I brought it from the cedar chest where I had placed it after restitching the lining.
He washed his hands first.
That made me smile when he was not looking.
He spread the blanket over the table and touched the sailboats with one finger.
He found the FM in the corner by himself.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he folded the blanket the way I had folded it at the shower, carefully and against his chest.
In that moment, I saw Frank in him.
Not all of Frank.
Not enough to excuse the silence at the party.
But enough to believe the roots had not died.
I do not know what kind of mother Madison will become.
