Claire carried over the muffins.
She chose the least-burned one and placed it beside Sarah’s picture.
Ari smiled.
Then she slipped one hand into Claire’s.
Not because she had forgotten Sarah.
Because she finally understood she didn’t have to choose.
That morning, I looked around our kitchen and saw four places.
Sarah’s photograph.
Claire’s smile.
My daughter’s laughter.
And the life I had once believed ended forever.
Nobody had been replaced.
Nobody had disappeared.
Love had simply become large enough to hold the people who were gone and the people who stayed.
