We sit down and stare at the chair that used to be Dad’s. And then Mom squeezes my hand and asks, “Anything special going on at school this week?”
And even though I don’t know what will happen now that the council knows I harbored a traveler in the modern world, and even though I don’t know if the wood will ever go back to normal, none of it seems that important right now. Because we have this.
We have each other, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.