Dylan set two cups on the table and said, “We’re still here. That still surprises me.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down. “It surprises me too some mornings.”
He pushed one cup toward me. “Not because I think we almost didn’t make it. We did almost not make it. I mean the ordinary version of still being here. Coffee. The garden. Your voice first thing.”
I wrapped my hands around the cup. “I used to think surviving the big disasters would be the hard part. Turns out staying through the quiet years takes its own kind of work.”
“It does.” He sat across from me. “I spent so long bracing for the next crisis that peace felt suspicious at first.”
“I remember,” I said. “You kept waiting for me to leave again even after I had been home for years.”
He gave a short nod. “Old habit. I trusted th
