It is something you practice.
Day after day.
Choice after choice.
As for me, I’m still making tea.
I still drive the boys to school when they miss the bus.
I still find wet towels on the bathroom floor.
I still remind George that deodorant is not optional.
I still listen to Jeffrey rehearse school presentations even though he no longer gets as nervous as he once did.
And every once in a while, when the house becomes quiet, I think back to October 2016.
I see my front door opening.
Two little boys in pajamas.
One black garbage bag.
A car disappearing down the street.
At the time, I believed that morning was the moment our family fell apart.
I was wrong.
Sometimes what feels like the end of a family is actually the beginning of a different kind of one.
Not the family we expected.
Not the family we planned.
