He had asked why Grandma never wore her blue shirt.
Why Grandma always sat off to the side.
Why Grandma kept saying she would rest later.
“He noticed everything,” Claire said quietly.
My eyes filled with tears.
Children often see the things adults would rather not see.
Then Claire asked me something I hadn’t expected.
“Mom, would you like us to come over next Sunday? Not so you can babysit Noah. Just for lunch. And if you’re comfortable with it, I’d like the three of us to talk.”
I hesitated.
My first instinct was to say, “No, don’t worry about me.”
Those familiar words.
The automatic response of a woman who had spent decades convincing everyone, including herself, that she could manage everything alone.
But I stopped myself.
Then I said, “All right. But I’m not spending the entire morning cooking.”
Claire gave a small, tearful laugh.
“Deal. We’ll bring the food.”
