There was no grand symbolism in that, just timing and mashed bananas and the fact that he had been spending Thursdays with me since he was discharged. But when he let go of the coffee table and lurched three wobbly, stubborn steps into my arms, I cried so hard I scared him into crying too.
Then we both laughed.
Megan, who had filmed the whole thing, sent the video to Daniel with the caption: Of course he walked for Grandma first. Betrayal noted.
Family had settled into a new shape by then. Not perfect. But truer.
There were more people in the room now when help was needed. Less performance. Less secrecy.
Daniel and Megan still fought sometimes, usually from exhaustion, but now they fought out loud where someone could say, “Go lie down. I’ve got him.”
That was progress.
I saw Laura once more, months later, at the pharmacy.
She was thinner. Tireder. But steadier somehow. Emma stood beside her in a school uniform, clutching a spelling test with a red A at the top. When Emma saw me, she looked nervous for half a second, then gave me a tiny wave.
