The morning of our trip started earlier than expected. It was as if we had a shorter night.
I woke to the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet padding of Raymond moving around the room. Light spilled in from the curtains, golden and lazy, dust floating in the sunbeams.
For a moment, I lay there, soaking it in. The stillness. The silence. The calm before goodbye.
Then I heard Miranda’s small voice outside the door.
“Mommy? Daddy? Can I come in now?”
Raymond opened the door before I could answer, and in she burst—still in her unicorn pajamas, her stuffed penguin tucked under one arm.
> “Today’s the day, right?” she asked, eyes wide and conflicted.
I sat up and reached for her. “Yes, baby. Aunt Rachel will be here soon to pick you up.”
She climbed into the bed and curled into my lap
