wedding, Claire slipped naturally into our routines.
She packed Ari’s lunches.
She danced while making pancakes.
She convinced our picky eater that broccoli was “tiny superhero trees.”
The house changed.
It became brighter.
Full of conversation instead of silence.
My parents noticed.
“So this is what laughter sounds like again,” my mom whispered during one visit.
Still, there were moments I couldn’t explain.
After Claire braided Ari’s hair one morning, I found my daughter standing silently in front of Sarah’s photograph.
She said nothing.
She just stared.
Another evening, Claire
