I got up, made coffee, and started writing the list.
I was on the second book when Daniel appeared in the doorway, hair uneven, wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He poured himself a coffee and sat across from me.
He looked at the paper in front of me.
“What’s that?”
“A list of books for Lily.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: “Dad, I need to say something, and I need you to actually hear it.”
I put the pen down.
“When you told us you were enrolling,” he said, “I wasn’t just angry about the money.
I was — ” He stopped.
Looked at his coffee.
“I was scared.
You’d just lost Mom.
You were sixty-five.
And instead of — I don’t know, staying close, staying where we could see you — you were going off to do this thing that felt so far away from us.
